


Project Flag Bearer

by ann2who



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cap_Ironman Reverse Bang Challenge 2015, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Tony, Pining Tony, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann2who/pseuds/ann2who
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{FLAG-BEAR•ER /flæg-bɛrər/ noun | a person who carries the flag of a unit, regiment, or army. It is viewed as a great honor, signaling courage, persistence and unity.}</p><p>Tony’s decision to never step up as Iron Man again had been final. He’d destroyed his suits in a spectacular firework display, moved to New York and once more took up his role as a consultant. However, from the moment Steve and Natasha had decided to rearrange the odds and convince everybody to move into Stark Tower, a sense of inevitability seemed to follow him wherever he went.</p><p>When signs of an uprising robot-army appear, Tony finds himself in a crisis of faith; the better angels of his conscience battling with his decision to resign from the superhero business once and for all. And the fact that Steve was taking the whole ‘Living American Flag’ metaphor a bit too serious, letting the Avengers carry him around battlefield like some goddamn battle standard, wasn’t exactly helping Tony’s dilemma, either. He hated seeing Steve in danger—hated that it wasn’t him holding the super soldier in his arms. The initiation of ‘Project Flag-Bearer’ had been a safety measure, but in hindsight, Tony might as well have called it a declaration of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. phase one = {‘conception and initiation’}

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wiredoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiredoll/gifts).



> This is my first Cap_Iron Man Reverse Big Bang entry ever. First and foremost: Thanks to the wonderful and talented [Wiredoll](http://wiredoll.tumblr.com/) who inspired this fic with her amazing artwork. Part of her art is already embedded in the story, and also can be found [here](http://wire-doll.livejournal.com/2475.html) and [here](http://wire-doll.livejournal.com/2796.html)! Thanks for working with me on this, it has been an upmost pleasure <3
> 
> Also: A huge HUGE thank you goes to my lovely beta-reader [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia) who helped me so much with this story (especially with her amazing med-knowledge and input. God bless you for intrucing me to the magic of a tourniquet). I also wanna thank [Zitronenbomber](http://zitronenbomber.tumblr.com/) and [jenngeek](http://jenngeek.tumblr.com/) for test reading. Your suggestions helped a ton!  
> The definitions of each project phase were taken from the [Project Management Institute](http://www.pmi.org/), and then altered to fit the story.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this, maybe leave a little comment if you like (: They really do make my day.

**description = {‘an idea for a project will be carefully examined to determine whether or not it benefits the client. During this phase, the project manager will identify if the project can realistically be completed.’}**

 

 

It was one of those days.

Tony neither loved nor hated those days. It was just another span of twenty-four hours that he kept himself occupied so his mind couldn’t convince him to do something stupid like call Pepper and beg her to come back home.

Only this place wasn’t home. There was no _home_ anymore. He hadn’t been in Malibu for almost a year, and with the mansion gone, and Pepper gone as well, there honestly was no reason to. Instead, Tony had moved to New York. Into Stark Tower. And he planned to stay indefinitely, even if it meant subjecting himself to a mainstream of tedium between working in his SI office and tinkering in the workshop.

Once upon a time, Tony would’ve deemed a life like this intolerable, but there was simply no motivation left in him to do anything about it. He didn’t give a fuck about what Rhodey kept trying to tell him—he didn’t want to make time for ‘self-reflection’. He didn’t want to ‘clear his head’, thanks very much, Happy. And whatever philosophical guidebook JARVIS had secretly downloaded on his servers, he would not ‘allow the metaphorical and physical scars marring his past time to heal’.

It didn’t matter that everyone kept telling him that he was diving head first into depression. This—whatever _this_ was—wasn’t just a matter of time. He was stuck. And instead of doing something about it, Tony took everything with a grain of salt and a tight smile. Forty-four years had schooled him to do whatever he felt like doing, and now… he was usually biting his tongue when every instinct told him to snap a witty rejoinder to those who drained his not-so-infallible patience.

Patience. Over the last months, he’d learned this was the secret to surviving one of those days. And that was what today was. What yesterday had been. What tomorrow would be.

Once, Tony had considered time an enemy; he had always had too little of it. The day his parents had died, he’d first realized— _truly realized_ —that his life expectancy had been stamped with an expiration date. And every day since then had been a fight to make the most of it. Between going to obnoxious parties, fucking his way through the upper 10,000 and inventing the future for SI, there had never been enough time.

It wasn’t that way anymore. All Tony had was time. And every single day, he awoke with a literal and not-so-literal hole carved in his chest, and with desperation to which he’d long grown numb.

“You sure you don’t need me to drive you home?” Happy offered, sporting the usual look of concern slash guilt whenever he didn’t want to let Tony out of his sight, these days.

“I’m good,” Tony said. “And you shouldn’t be late for your date, Casanova.”

Happy valiantly tried to fight down a smug smile, and Tony rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it all. Happy _deserved_ a few days off, and he damn well deserved to spend time with his new potential nurse-girlfriend. After all, it was the single good thing that had resulted from the whole Mandarin fiasco, so Happy better made it count. And… how low must Tony truly be, if his friend couldn’t even show how, well, _happy_ he was about his first date in years?

After another minute of consideration, Happy patted Tony’s shoulder and gave him a long and stern look. “If you need anything, just call me, alright? Or James. Pepper even told me to—”

Tony groaned, holding up a hand to stop him right there. “I’m _not_ an invalid. Jesus Christ. You guys have to stop treating me like one. There are plenty of parties I’m invited to. And plenty of people to have some fun with afterwards. I’m _fine_.”

He wasn’t going to attend any party, which Happy knew, of course, but was tactful enough not to call Tony on the bluff. Or he was just glad about the easy way out. Whatever.

On his drive back to the tower, Tony decided to make a little detour to the next foodmarket. The penthouse was always well stocked with all sorts of seasonal foods and drinks, but that was only the standard delivery, and Pepper had excluded all kinds of hard liquor after their break-up. In doing so she had probably saved his liver, if not his life—he wasn’t stupid, okay?—but if he was going to survive this particular day, he needed something a little stronger for once.

Exactly one year ago, he’d been busy hunting down the world’s most giant stuffed bunny. And now, he was alone, which didn’t look like it was going to change any time soon.

As soon as Tony stepped out of the car, he shoved a cap on his head and propped a pair of sunglasses on his nose. The winter air was chilly—and the sky looked like it was about to snow any second, reminiscent of the Christmas he’d spent in Rosehill last year.

He still remembered holding Pepper in his arms so vividly, the Iron Man suits exploding all around them. He’d believed in it then, believed it was worth it to destroy this part of him to get his normal life back. To finally give Pepper what she deserved.

He wasn’t so sure anymore. And he was beyond believing in saving grace.

Pepper had left. The one person who’d always managed to deal with his crazy had left. And Tony had aged so much so quickly. Barely forty-five and he already felt like an old man.

Inside the supermarket, Tony brushed a few snowflakes off his jacket and started the journey up and down the aisles. There wasn’t much he needed. Just a bit of liquor to make sure he remembered nothing of the season once the new year hit. Enough to make him forget that he didn’t want to be alone, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Ten minutes later, he watched as the teller rang up his purchases. Watched the bottles of some low-budget scotch disappear into brown paper sacks. The cashier reported the total and Tony handed over his credit card. Once his name popped up on the display, the cashier did a double-take, really looking at Tony’s face for the first time. And all Tony could think of was how tired and old he must look these days. How aged. How thoroughly hollow.

The boy was opening his mouth, and Tony knew exactly what was coming next, and managed to brush past the paperboy in record-time. No way he was going to do this now. No fucking way. He was too tired for autographs, or any sort of photo. It didn’t matter anyway. Now, there would be news on him buying booze on Christmas, sad and alone, and he really didn’t need to give the press any more fuel for that particular fire.

His image was already burning, after all.

Before he could reach the door, though, he felt a tug on his jacket sleeve, and turned around sharply, ready to give the guy a piece of his mind on touching people without their permission. Though for everything in the world, Tony was hardly prepared for who stood right in front of him.

That… definitely wasn’t a scrawny cashier.

“Rogers?” Tony said, fully aware how far his mouth was hanging open.

God, Cap looked different. Long gone was the guy Tony had made old man jokes at during their brief stint as a superhero team. His features were still as sharp as Tony remembered, as were his blue eyes. Everything about him was the same except that he’d gotten a new and much more modern haircut, and wore a black hoodie and jeans.

Rogers’ face broke into a smile, and while it was warm and welcoming, it also struck Tony as suffered and worn—the face of someone who had fought his demons and was a better person for it. Well. Given what had happened in Washington two months ago, that was exactly what had happened.

“Stark,” he said in greeting, and… tried very _very_ hard to look surprised.

No coincidence, then.

As though on command, Natasha stepped up next to Rogers, wearing a dark hoodie and sunglasses of her own. She looked up at Tony with her trademark smile that was half assessment and half criticism.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, which was a lie she didn’t even try to mask, and continued, “How are you?”

“I’m…” Tony broke off and decided to play their little game. Smalltalk he could always do. “Exceedingly surprised to see you here. It’s been… how long?”

“Almost two years,” Natasha said with a short, non-committal nod. “One and a half since New York.”

“Really? What about that. You look good,” Tony told them both, and that was true, at least. A bit too hipster for Tony’s liking, but good nevertheless.

“Thank you.” Rogers flashed an amused grin. “You look… interesting.”

Tony looked down at himself, and… right. He still wore one of his more expensive Armani suits, a blue Patriots cap, his red Nike AF1s and yellow sunglasses. “Err…” he said with a noncommittal shrug. “Christmas shopping was kind of a last minute decision.”

“I see,” Rogers said with a tight smile. “What are the odds of bumping into each other here, right?”

There was a long beat of silence. Tony glanced at Natasha—who obviously fought hard not to roll her eyes—then back at Rogers. Then he burst out laughing.

 _Hard_.

He just couldn’t help himself. The guy was easily the worst liar of all times. And he was trying _so_ hard, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, a tight expression etching his face.

It was kind of cute, to be honest.

Rogers’ faux-surprised mask fell into a scowl. “Really?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Tony said with a little hiccup, gaining composure. “I am… well… I suppose I just find it ironic. That Fury would send you of all people out here to get me back on track, or whatever it is that he told you to do. The two people of the team who hate me the most.”

“Fury’s dead,” Rogers supplied, face very serious.

Tony just snorted. “Yeah, sure he is. So what is this—his special Christmas gift?” He leered at Natasha. “Got another needle to jam in my neck? News flash: I’m not gonna build him anything. Not after that Helicarrier fiasco.”

Rogers opened his mouth to say something, but Natasha held up a hand to stop him. She’d probably known all along that Rogers and his lousy pokerface would give them away. Either she hadn’t cared, or she’d brought him along for this exact reason. “We’re not here to do anything with you. Or ask anything of you, for that matter,” she assured him. “This isn’t another mission. We left DC to get away from all that.”

“But you did come here on purpose,” Tony pointed out. “Seeking me out at Christmas of all times. For what if you don’t want new tech? If it’s Iron Man Fury’s looking for, I gotta tell you, he’ll be really disappointed. Better just go back to your boss and tell him that.”

Rogers’ scowl was firmly in place while he jutted his jaw forward, looking for all the world like a stubborn five-year old. “Our days of acting out Fury’s orders at a drop of the pin are over.”

“Aha!” Tony cried, pointing triumphantly at Rogers’ chest. So Fury _was_ alive. He’d had his suspicions, of course, but with Fury, there was no way to know for sure. After a blink, though, Tony’s expressions fell into a frown. “But… if it’s not—what do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” Rogers said and raised his voice over Tony’s disbelieving snort. “It’s just friends visiting for the holidays, if you’ll have us. We’re kind of… stranded. And from what we’ve heard, you don’t have a lot of people to spend Christmas with, either.”

Tony smiled grimly. The ‘Millennia Break-up’ had been all over the news of course—in great detail—and a few gossip magazines were still doing front pages. “I see word still travels fairly well.”

Rogers’ face remained impassive. “Look, we haven’t heard from you in a while, so we thought you’d like the company—”

“I don’t.”

Rogers blinked. “Don’t what?”

“Like the company. I’m good on my own. Always have been, always will be.”

Rogers didn’t look impressed. “It’s Christmas.”

Tony rolled his eyes, waving a hand at the decorations around them. “Really? _Gosh_ , I wasn’t aware of that, thanks so much Captain Perceptive.”

“Play nice, boys. This isn’t the place for this,” Natasha said, nodding to the grocery store around them. A bunch of people had already stopped to take photos of them. “Can we at least invite ourselves to your place for dinner?” she asked.

“Dinner,” Tony echoed. “Why would you want to have dinner with me?”

Natasha smiled innocently. “Well, you do have a tower around here somewhere, right? I’m pretty sure it has a kitchen.”

Tony rolled his eyes and glanced at the bag in his hand, silently saying goodbye to his plans for this evening. He couldn’t very well get wasted in Captain America’s presence. Or Natasha’s.

 _Especially_ not in Natasha’s.

“Steve was planning to make spaghetti with meatballs for all of us, if that’s helping in any way. They’re delicious,” Natasha offered. “Clint cried a little.”

“I… God, whatever, fine,” Tony said on a long exhale. “Mi casa e su casa.”

Natasha’s smile almost turned a little smug at that. She’d probably expected this to be his answer eventually.

Rogers beamed, satisfied now that he got his way. Tony’d always had the feeling that there was a calculating little shithead underneath all that patriotic virtue. “Great,” he announced. “The others are already waiting.”

“The others,” Tony echoed and pinched his nose.

Natasha grinned at him in a way that made Tony want to crawl under the pyramid of mashed potatoes-cans. “A little bird told us there are five furnished floors in the tower, and couple of guest suites. I’m sure you can accommodate a few guests for one night, right?”

If Tony had to guess, the little bird had red hair and usually wore six-inch high heels.

Rogers patted his back, ever-so-gently moving him forward, before Tony could do something like run away. Which seemed like a solid option right then.

“Why guest suites?” asked faintly when he spotted all of the other Avengers outside, where they were casually leaning against some black SUV. “Last time I counted, there was only six people on the team, me included.”

“Oh, right,” Rogers said, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards in an entirely not-so-innocent way. “I’ll introduce you to Sam. I’m sure you’ll like each other just fine.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony had stepped into someone else’s life.

The penthouse was bright and harsh and deafening, a fact not aided by the loud pop music and Thor’s constant jeering and laughing. Barton, Natasha and that Sam-guy were sprawled in a heap on the couch, while Rogers, Bruce and Thor had invaded Tony’s kitchen, drinking one beer after another.

And Tony? Well, he sat on one of the bar stools, a tumbler of scotch firmly cradled between his hands, and simply stared at his surroundings. Apart from a short greeting, no one had really said much of anything to him, and that was more than fine. A room full of people was constrictive as it was, and he hated feeling pressed for conversation that, after so long since he’d done something like this, seemed awkward.

“I want ice-cream,” Barton called over suddenly. He spoke with a firm tone of authority, leading Tony to believe the he had thought this point over with comical seriousness. The next instant, he rose to his feet and traveled across the room, looking a little helpless as he inspected the large kitchen area.

“There’s always some Ben and Jerry’s in the freezers,” Tony offered slowly as though he was talking about desserts all the time and this was not at all an unusual occurrence.

Barton stopped in his tracks for a second, casting Tony a pensive look. “Uh, thanks,” he said.

Tony arched a brow at Natasha. “Did I say something wrong?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s still not used to not having his every action dissected. For a while, everything he said came with a Q&A.”

Loki. Right. Tony’d almost forgotten about that. “Because he liked ice cream?”

Rogers walked over to them. He met Tony’s eyes and said in a flat deadpan, “When I got defrosted, SHIELD called in a meeting after I said I wanted a burger.”

The part of Tony that wanted to laugh was trampled by disbelief. “You’re trolling me.”

Natasha shook her head with a fond smile. “Phil only tried to figure out what would make him happy and… recreate that. There were extensive lists on what Steve liked and what he didn’t.”

Rogers made a face. “Strange how I thought my wanting a burger was just because I was hungry.”

Tony scratched his neck as he watched Thor and Bruce laugh at something. They looked like they’d been cooking together all their life. When had that happened anyway? “This is very weird. You’re all weird.”

Rogers cast him a long look. “Still better than you. It’s Christmas and your best friend’s a bottle.”

Tony froze. Rogers’ brows perked. “What? You think I didn’t catch that?”

Tony swallowed. “No, I just thought you had more tact.”

“That’s a myth,” Natasha supplied with a low smile.

Rogers chuckled quietly, then looked back at Tony with an intense sort of expression that made Tony feel strangely bare. “Is it so hard to believe that we’re all a little lost, after everything that happened last year? That we might be in need of company just as much as you are?”

A pang struck Tony’s heart. “It’s not that you’re lost, I can understand that. It’s…” He trailed off, not knowing how to put it that he simply did not understand why they wanted to spend time with _him_ without sounding like a huge-assed cry baby.

“We’re right where we want to be,” Steve said, looking way too serious for a guy currently wearing a red-and-gold Iron Chef apron.

Tony snorted, openly amused for the first time in what felt like years. He was thoroughly overwhelmed—a feeling so foreign. It seemed that years had passed since he’d known acceptance. He almost felt as though he had been pardoned by a higher authority for all the wrongs he had done. Eventually, he cleared his throat and said, “If you say so, Capsicle… I don’t suppose I can refuse now, anyway. Not before I taste those legendary meatballs.”

Out of nowhere, Barton put a hand on Tony’s shoulder as he walked by. “Trust me, buddy. Those fuckers ruin you for every other meal.”

Rogers blushed a little at that, and for a weird out-of-body-experience-second, Tony thought that he looked really pretty with flushed cheeks. “Not my recipe, really,” Rogers said. “It was my Ma’s.”

Peace touched every nerve in Tony’s body, and he was captured with a wonderfully cheesy, however uplifting thought: So this is Christmas. “I’m sure they’re great.”

“Excellent,” Natasha told them, taking the spoon Barton offered her and dipping it into the huge can of Cookie Dough between his hands. “‘Cause we agreed that we’d tie you up and gag you, if you’d tried to kick us out on Christmas.”

Next to her, Barton nodded, and Steve was smiling at him entirely too pleasantly.

These people were very frightening.

Somehow they managed to spend the entire rest of the evening cooking and eating. By the time the pasta was done, and the sauce made, Tony was on his third glass of scotch. His words probably turned a little mushy, and his smiles were a bit on the dopey side, but the others weren’t exactly faring much better, so he was probably okay.

True to Natasha’s promise, Steve’s spaghetti was easily the most delicious thing Tony had eaten in a very long time. It wasn’t the gourmet, fashionable kind of delicious, maybe, but the sort of homemade, down-to-earth food that you remembered from your childhood. At first there was the rich flavor of tomatoes, then a hint of basil, and a touch of cayenne. After that, the flavor was much more complex and Tony might’ve let out a few involuntary groans as he finished his plate.

After Rogers meticulously put the leftovers in the fridge, it was already well past midnight, and all of them had settled onto the huge couches to watch a movie. Tony had scoured the video selection, and after some debate, he queued Return of the Jedi, because apparently Rogers still needed to see the conclusion of the saga.

The entire team, Tony included, was asleep within minutes. And if his head dropped to Rogers’ shoulder at some point, well, no one had to know.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Morning brought with it an awakening, both physical and mental. As the sun filtered in through the curtains, bathing Tony’s face in light, his splintered memory rushed back. The haze lifted completely and the events of the night before came back to him.

God, that had really happened, hadn’t it?

“JARVIS?” he breathed into the quietness of the room.

“Sir?” came the immediate answer.

“Are there currently five people asleep on my couch?”

“It does seem like it, sir. My sensors detect six life signs in this room. However, may I remind you that you have cleared their presence personally?”

“Right,” Tony said, rubbing his forehead with two fingers. No way to pretend that his world hadn’t once more rolled off its axis, then.

It was still early—way too early for him to be awake. Tony took in the chaotic appearance of the room with a quick glance, then stared down at the sleeping figures all around him. Natasha and Barton lay entangled on the other couch, with Bruce huddled to a tight ball right at Natasha’s feet. Thor was sprawled all over the right side of the couch, while Rogers was sleeping in a sitting position right next to Tony. His left arm was draped over his eyes, hair a little sleep-mussed, chest heaving with even breaths.

Tony’s thoughts drifted back to the events of last night. If it hadn’t been for Cap, he might never have brought all of them here. Strangely enough, something in him—despite their rough start on the Helicarrier two years ago—had trusted Steve implicitly.

Tony’s lips tugged into a small smile as he leaned back on the sofa, overcome with an odd sense of contentedness. It had been so long since he had cause to be happy—not that he was entirely happy now… but he was okay. And there was something strangely unsurprising about all of their presence, as if it had been meant to be that way.

As if they had been meant to be there at Tony’s side all along.

Tony knew, of course, that this wouldn’t fix anything. This— _all of this_ —was temporary. He wasn’t so naïve to think this could last. He knew better than to grow accustomed, even for a day or so, to be depending on others. He had made that mistake before. He might have once believed in miracles. Now, though, his life was too shaded with darkness. And he refused to ask any of them to ease his loneliness.

Next to him, Steve murmured something and shifted. His left arm subconsciously reached for something and ended up grabbing a pillow in his sleepy haze.

Tony smiled at that. Steve sure looked comfortable, peaceful, even. His features were almost boyish in relaxation, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As though he had not slept a night through until curling up on Tony’s sofa.

_Is it so hard to believe that we’re all a little lost?_

Tony heaved a long sigh, reveling in the warmth that emitted from Steve’s body. At this point, it was fruitless to force himself to conclusion. For once, he would simply lean back and see how things played out. Patience had been his only driving force for so long… he could wait a little while longer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

No one had openly acknowledged it so far, but Christmas was long over, and within a week, the floors at Stark Tower, which Tony had designed two years prior, were occupied. On the common floor, clothes were now strewn all around, new books and kitchen supplies were popping up out of nowhere. Steve and the wonder-twins had claimed the gyms twenty-four seven, while Thor and Sam were either joining them, watching movies or playing some PS4 game. And Bruce, who had only occasionally spent a few weeks here and there in the tower before, made himself at home in his own new lab.

Honestly, Tony still didn’t understand any of it. How things could change so much in such a short time was beyond him. He simply didn’t know why they had all simultaneously decided to give this Avengers-thing a new try, but for some reason, he didn’t question it. Like all things in his world, some ends were simply inevitable. After DC, after SHIELD’s collapse, Steve and Natasha must have contacted everyone, and Tony simply had been the last on the list.

Which was fine, really. He hadn’t exactly expected to make it on that list at all.

What he hadn’t expected either was the sudden wealth of affection he felt for these people. An affection that had originated, it seemed, from nowhere at all. They were on the road to something. Not friendship, maybe, not yet. But it was already more than Tony would have ever expected to get.

Thor was far more insightful than anyone gave him credit for. Certainly more than Tony had given him. It wasn’t always easy to figure out the deeper meaning behind his booming voice and kingly words, but more often than not, he brought things into perspective in a way that spoke volumes of how old Thor actually was.

Clint and Natasha were scary as ever, although Tony was slowly getting used to them popping up from out of nowhere. Natasha had changed a lot in the last year—that much was clear. She was still calculating, still hard when it came down to it, but there was softness now, too.

Bruce spent most of his time in the lab, working on his own projects when he wasn’t up in the kitchen to brew himself a new can of tea. From time to time, though, he’d come down to Tony’s shop and they’d tinker for a while. Bruce was a good man, even if he didn’t want to hear it—a good, complex man working hard to rid himself of his own demons. He was their strongest ally as well, and everybody knew it.

Sam… well, it was easy to see why Steve had chosen him to become his new best buddy. They had the same sort of dry humor, there were lots of shared war experiences and Sam was the only one who’d actually get up as early as Steve to join him for his morning runs.

To say Tony had been wrong about his assessment of Steve’s character would be the understatement of the century. He might be the embodiment of everything Tony was not—everything Howard had always made sure to tell Tony he could never be. He was unrepentantly good, and he flaunted it every chance he got. He was every bit the selfless and brave hero history made him out to be. He drank a glass of whole milk in the mornings, helped people around the city whenever he could, and Tony was almost sure he had once heard him hum _Star Spangled Banner_ under the gym’s shower.

 _But_.

But Steve could be such an _ass_ , too. He was obstinate and self-righteous, sarcastic and so sassy it sometimes even put Tony in his place. He was constantly letting his stuff lie around—clothes, dirty socks, you name it. The guy didn’t even do his dishes half of the time. Steve was… in a word… a masterpiece. He was complex and imperfect, and still larger-than-life in everything he did. He was humble, a little rough at the edges… and Tony might have never been more wrong about anything or anyone in his entire life.

It was hard to tell what Steve thought of Tony these days. Tony wasn’t part of his team, so they didn’t necessarily have to get along. And whenever they were in the same room, Steve’s eyes often followed Tony as he crossed a room, like he was still trying to figure out if he even liked him or not.

Tony had expected to be unnerved by Steve’s constant presence. As the Avengers’ leader, he spent a lot of time down in Tony’s workshop to give him suggestions for whatever upgrades Tony had agreed to do on their gear. And it had turned their distrust in each other into begrudging acceptance. Then to acknowledged respect. And now this.

Steve usually sat on one of the couches, reading his history books or drawing on his new Stark tablet. They talked about everything and nothing, always talking, always sharing their thoughts. And no matter how confused these times together had Tony, there was some measure of solace in them as well. While, only a month ago, Tony had been fighting the current, now he was floating upon it, letting the warm drift carry him where it would. Having Steve around slowly seemed to heal the wounds in his heart, and it felt like he could just, for once in his life, let himself fall without fearing to crash and burn in the process.

His life had been molded into the fabric of self-constructed tedium so long that he had completely forgotten that life could be like this. Effortless. He was so used to struggling, fighting to stay afloat. Fighting not to let it show how bad he felt.

But here, now, was a life worth living.

“That’s a travesty,” Tony said, as he inspected the material of Steve’s stealth uniform. How the guy had managed to even survive so long with so little protection was beyond him. “No wonder you took SHIELD down all by yourself. If they force their people to wear this, all bets are off. Just… look at it,” he said in disgust.

Steve only shrugged, amusement written all over his face. “I’m aware. That’s why I asked for your help, remember?”

Tony leered. “And here I thought you only spend the day here to see what good I can do with my hands.”

Steve rolled his eyes, grin still firmly in place. “That, too.” He batted at him dismissively, while he turned around, looking at the workshop for a long thoughtful moment. “I wish I could’ve seen the suits in here, you know? Just once. It sure must’ve been a sight.”

Tony didn’t know what to say to that, so he merely flashed an easy-going smile. They hadn’t really talked about his retirement up until now. The topic of the missing aerial support had come up at one point, but they had successfully tiptoed around it. That Steve would eventually just breach the subject like this, wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it still caught Tony off-guard.

“I mostly tinker for SI, these days,” Tony said eventually. “Communication tech, clean energy, that kind of stuff.”

Steve hummed, as he rounded the corner where Tony knew the empty Iron Man display cabinets were. “So… you’re serious? There really won’t be any new suits?”

“Nope,” Tony said, popping the ‘p’. “Retired, remember?”

“You’re not considering it?”

“No,” Tony repeated, frowning.

Steve just smiled again, damn him. Tony _hated_ that smile. It had a condescending feel to it, and an annoying ‘I-know-something-you-don’t-know’ touch.

“To be honest, I’d kinda hoped you might change your mind,” Steve said. “Once we’re all here, you know? Apart from everything else… fighting with you came easy. Felt like we clicked somehow, right?”

Tony swallowed thickly, nodded. “Right.”

“It’s not gonna be the same without you.”

Tony snorted. “Less chaotic, you mean?”

“Maybe.” Steve shrugged, like he couldn’t care less. “Sometimes a little chaos is the best strategy.”

Their eyes connected only for a fleeting second—a second that felt like hours. And all it really took to decide the truth from Steve was the look on his face. He was open and earnest, his eyes imploring Tony for trust. There was nothing deceitful in any stretch of his expression.

Tony sighed as he looked back down at Steve’s uniform. If he forged the vibranium’s molecules thin enough, Steve wouldn’t have to make compromises on agility and have a rough six hundred percent better protection, easy. Same should work for Nat’s cat suit. “For now, I’m just gonna make you something we can actually call a uniform. Sounds good?”

Steve smiled softly as though reading Tony’s thoughts, but didn’t comment. He pushed both hands in the pockets of his sweat pants and his blue eyes were so close that Tony could have counted every single one of his long lashes. “Sure, Tony.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Watching the Avengers sparring was definitely something else. Tony sat on one of the gym’s long benches, tablet in his lap as he made notes on all of their strengths and weak spots, rearranging the blueprints of their armors when necessary.

Mostly, he was ogling.

Clint was teaching Bruce some complicated looking Asian martial arts, and Thor was holding up a punching bag while Sam went to town on it. The punching bag didn’t move once.

The real show, though, happened on the boxing ring.

There, Steve squared his shoulders and resettled into a fighting position, waiting for Natasha’s next move. They flew at each other the next second, and Natasha managed to dodge one punch as Steve landed a kick on her legs, sending her flying. Natasha laughed and ducked under Steve’s arm as he threw a punch at her. But Steve already lashed out at her again—and this time, Natasha was a nanosecond too slow. The blow made her stagger backwards but she righted herself quickly.

For a while, it looked like Natasha was getting her ass handed to her. Steve had the upper hand all the time, and instead of sending her to the mattress, he only jabbed her a few times, then stepped back again, prompting Natasha to try just a little bit harder.

Then, however, something entirely unexpected happened.

Natasha ducked another hit. Steve spun into a kick, but was clearly surprised when it didn’t hit the target. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Natasha managed to get a leg between Steve’s. In the matter of a second, she squatted down, grabbed Steve’s left arm and put her other arm underneath the back of his knees. Then, she braced both feet on the ground while pressing her back against Steve’s chest and—lifted Steve right up onto her shoulders, pushing his legs into a position that made it impossible for him to move.

The room fell silent.

While Tony’s mouth dropped open on a surprised gasp, Steve didn’t seem to be phased at all—at least it didn’t look like it… from where he was hanging face down over Natasha’s shoulders. His expression changed into one of annoyance, while his white shirt slid downwards, exposing his stomach, and his ridiculously toned muscles.

Jesus, the guy must weigh about 240 pounds easy, Natasha shouldn’t just be able to _lift_ him like that, and to keep carrying him on her shoulders without any kind of strain, that was…

It wasn’t that she was a woman, okay? It was… she was just so _tiny_. From a scientific perspective, she simply didn’t have enough muscle mass to lift that much weight. 150 pounds maybe, 180 tops, but _Steve?_

“Nice one, Tasha,” Clint called over as Steve tried valiantly to break free, without much success. After a couple of tries, he simply went loose and started to chuckle, waving his hands in defeat. “All right, all right. Give,” he said, eyes shining with amusement.

Tony cleared his throat. “Lookin’ good there, Cap,” he called with a mocking tone. “Shame you’re not wearing your costume. You’d make a perfect American flag impression.”

Steve rolled his eyes at him, just as Natasha set him back on the ground.

“Don’t be jealous,” Natasha quipped at Tony with a sly smile that hit a little bit too close to home for Tony’s liking. “If you’d spar with us, I might even teach you how to do that lift.”

Tony huffed, not even gracing that with a decent answer. “Pass,” he drawled instead. Carrying a big sweaty man in his arms really wasn’t all that appealing. Especially when Tony would likely break his back in the process.

Steve only cast him one of his annoyingly contemplative glances, then grabbed for one of the towels hanging from the robes of the boxing ring and made to move for the gym’s showers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first time the Avengers needed to step up again happened about three weeks after New Year’s Eve. They were an official team by now, and the government had a direct dial to their comms.

They just hadn’t made use of it until now.

The alarm started to blare in the middle of their weekly movie night and at first, they all just looked at each other with confused glances, until they finally grasped what was happening.

“Avengers,” JARVIS called. “There are reports of a small group of robots infiltrating Lower Manhattan. So far I cannot disclose their origin, but their interaction indicates a basic model of Artificial Intelligence. Surveillance says they are shooting at random targets, including citizens.”

“All right,” Steve called. “Everyone move. I expect you at the Quinjet in five.”

For a millisecond, Tony forgot that he wouldn’t be suiting up to fight the good fight. He jumped to his feet, just as the others, ready to storm for the elevator. It was reflex, plain and simple. Only after a few steps, his thoughts caught up with reality—and ultimately, it was the apologetic look in Steve’s eyes that made Tony remember.

Right. He wasn’t Iron Man anymore. This wasn’t his mission.

It was theirs.

“Uh, right… Good luck everyone. Go team,” Tony called after them with a cheery voice and Steve quirked a little amused smile, just as the elevator’s doors closed in front of him.

Tony’s heart tried to lodge itself in his throat, and he quickly swallowed it back down. He’d known this moment would come eventually. He just needed to stay calm. That was all.

Clenching his jaw resolutely, Tony made his way to the staircase. The first thing he needed to do was to make sure the others would be safe by checking their status. Then, he could start formulating a plan on how to survive just sitting at the sidelines with nothing to do but watch.

“JARVIS,” he called, “queue up all security feeds. I want each of their vitals on display. And connect me to their comms, ASAP.”

“Already done, sir.”

Tony nodded in acknowledgment, but didn’t speak again. Time no longer held meaning. It wasn’t until he took a seat in the workshop, staring at the holographs in front of him, that it truly sank in.

He wasn’t an Avenger anymore. He’d made that decision himself. And if something went wrong, _truly_ wrong, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

Something hard fell within him and had he not been sitting down already, he would have collapsed in anguish.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony tried not to let it show how much being left behind was wearing on him.

One mission was followed by another, and soon enough, hearing the alarm blaring and slowly shuffling down to his workshop to passively watch the action from afar became something of a routine.

And there were _a lot_ of new routines going on.

The others had their little insiders now. Cute little battle stories they kept bringing up at Every. Possible. Fucking. Chance. Whenever the alarm went off, silence would settle over the room for a few awkward seconds, accented with uncomfortable glances in Tony’s direction and uncertain fidgeting.

And, yes, Tony was annoyed, okay? Not because he felt left out, just… the topics irritated him. After Natasha had proven how easy it was to carry Steve on her tiny shoulders, the guy was now apparently the team’s little Hug-Me-Monkey or something. Since Steve always fought right at the frontlines, he often needed to be evacuated on a last moment’s notice, before the villain du jour exploded, imploded, evaporated, melted, froze, etcetera, etcetera. Most of the time it was Thor, Sam or the Hulk who would fly into the thick of it and carry Steve to safety. And then Steve would just hang in their arms, face flushed with adrenaline and exhilaration, until his carrier-of-the-day threw him right back into the battle.

‘Carrying Steve’ had obviously become the team’s new favorite bonding-activity. So far, JARVIS had counted a whole of fourteen different ways in which someone had carried Steve around the battlefield. It was also the new favorite subject in the media and had effectively killed whatever interest had been left on Tony’s and Pepper’s break-up.

The newspapers were having a field day with the photographs of Captain America being carried around like some stern looking handbag dog. Twitter, Instagram, Facebook—Steve’s face was everywhere. Weeks had passed, and hashtags like #teamflagbearer, #givecaparide #carrythecap and #dailycap were still trending. And to top it all off, the ‘Team Flag Bearer’ thing had caught on and spread like a wildfire, like the name wasn’t all kinds of stupid.

There were even bets going on in which position Steve would be ‘damseled’ out of the way, next. Thor did the bridal carry most of the time, balancing Steve in the trunks of his arms. Hulk just grabbed Steve in whichever way first sprung to his mind; either in what JARVIS told Tony was called an ‘Effortless Amazonian Lift’ or simply grabbing for Steve’s hand or foot and drag him upwards. Sam usually hugged Steve to his chest. Rationally speaking, it might be the best way to insure his maneuverability with the new wing-set, but it still looked completely absurd.

Clint and Natasha only rarely came into play when it came to ‘bearing the flag’, but even they had both proven at least three times by now that they were capable of carrying Steve, even when he was in his full uniform and probably weighed around three hundred pounds. Clint had once _piggy backed_ Steve and that particular photograph had stayed on the front covers of every known national and international newspaper for a full week straight.

Tony didn’t particularly care about the whole affair, of course. Let them carry Steve all they wanted, wasn’t like it mattered to him. If Steve liked to be thrown around—it was his reputation, right? And if he didn’t care that he’d likely break his neck in the process one day, then it clearly wasn’t Tony’s place to interfere.

As if on cue, the doors of the workshop opened, and yeah, _wonderful_ —of course it was Steve. They’d just defeated another group of those annoying white-masked robots—or androids, apparently. It hadn’t been much of a fight, though, and all in all lasted only about an hour.

Steve looked freshly showered and still had a towel around his neck, as he walked into the room. “Hey,” he greeted Tony with an entirely too cheerful expression.

“If that isn’t our damsel of the day,” Tony mumbled without looking up. “You’ve made number one on Twitter. Again.”

Steve stopped for a second; obviously trying to figure out what Tony was talking about. When he did, he huffed lowly and proceeded forward. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were awfully bothered by this.”

Tony tried to keep his attention on the device in his hands, but it wasn’t easy with Steve staring over his shoulder like that. Steve was always staring at him these days. Well, not exactly _staring_. More like glancing. Frequently. His eyes were bright with curiosity, and often burning with an intensity Tony found more than unnerving.

“Not bothered,” Tony said shortly. “It’s called secondhand embarrassment. You ever see your piggy back picture with Clint?”

Steve leaned against Tony’s table, looking down at him with a raised brow. “You ever see ninety percent of the pictures in your SHIELD file? I think the one with you in silver glittering pants was my favorite.”

A surprised snort slipped from Tony’s mouth. “Fair enough.”

“It gets the job done,” Steve went on, unfazed. “If I can trust my team to get me out in time, I don’t care how they do it. It’s practical. And I don’t care what people are saying about that.”

The tines of Tony’s welding torch screeched against the metal surface as he dropped the implement and picked up a rag to rub the oil off. He couldn’t work like this—not with Steve _looking_ at him.

“What are you making?” Steve asked, tone stupidly curious, as he sat down next to him.

“New explosive arrow heads for Clint,” Tony mumbled, looking down and—stopping there. That… wasn’t an arrow head. Actually, that looked a lot like the beginnings of a repulsor-emitter.

“Damn it,” Tony muttered, turning the device over before shoving it away. He sat both elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.

This was all getting out of hand.

Steve leaned over his shoulder, and a soft sound escaped his lips. “That looks vaguely familiar,” he said with an entirely too smug tone.

“Keep it to yourself, would you,” Tony warned.

Steve put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and kept it there. It was very warm and for a second, Tony had to stop himself from leaning in. “I really don’t understand why you’re fighting this so hard.”

“I made a decision,” Tony said. “Just because the result blew up in my face doesn’t mean it was the wrong one.”

“You really want to tell me you don’t miss it at all?” Steve’s voice had a catch in it, something shy and almost sad.

Tony closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Tony,” Steve called softly and actually knelt down before him. His large blue eyes met Tony’s expectantly. “You are a hero. What I said back then, I couldn’t have been more wrong. You kept going even when it would’ve been easier for you to give up. And you’re one of the strongest persons I’ve ever met. I wouldn’t bother you about it over and over again if I didn’t see the longing in your eyes every time we step out as a team. I… knowing that you were up in that sky lifted a weight off of my shoulders and… And I want that. I want you there with me.”

Tony looked up at that, his heart beating faster. “You do?”

Steve cleared his throat, glancing sideways. “Well, we _all_ do… of course we do. You’re one of our strongest assets. It’s not that we don’t manage out there, but… I think we haven’t found our balance yet. Something’s missing.”

Tony knew where Steve was coming from. He’d analyzed the data of every Avengers fight so far and the team did well out there. Everyone who hadn’t fought with them before would think it was all a well-oiled clockwork. Tony, though, he knew better. It wasn’t Iron Man’s firepower missing—at least not first and foremost—it was the absence of his and JARVIS’ combined insight, the loss of an overview of the battlefield that made them struggle more than Tony had anticipated.

Thor and Sam tried to compensate, but when it came down to it, they were too occupied with what was happening around them to give the others useful feedback.

“I’ll think about it,” he said softly, not quite meeting Steve’s gaze. His heart was hammering in his chest, and every part of him that was still in love with Pepper screamed in protest. But there was a sense of duty coming forth, too… and the longing to be part of the team again.

Above all, he missed flying.

God damn it, he couldn’t even put in _words_ how much he missed flying.

Steve beamed in a way that told Tony that nothing he could have said—or done—would have pleased him more. “You do that.”

The potency behind Steve’s gaze startled Tony. It was a little frightening how fast his heart was pounding. How hard his pulse was racing. The depth of Steve’s eyes was continuously dragging Tony into a light that was still a little too bright for him.

The thought of Steve trusting him like that, _wanting_ him out there with him, both excited and scared the shit out of him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, the decision wasn’t Tony’s to make. The conclusion had always been inevitable. Tony had known it was only a matter of time before one of the team would get hurt and the guilt that was already eating up his heart would swallow him whole.

He simply hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

And he’d dreaded for it to happen like this.

For the first time, none of the Avengers had been able to carry Steve out before things went downhill. His injuries weren’t fatal, but after the battle, he had to spend over three days in the hospital before he was able to even support his own weight again.

It had been those goddamn robots. The ones with the black armor, and the single red eye in the middle of their white helmets. They did look a bit like those Hammer Drones Vanko had created all those years ago, just… they were much better than that. More evolved. Weeks ago, there had only been a small group. They hadn’t been much of a threat, and Tony had been sure they’d just been some experiment gone wrong, or some new villain trying his hands at engineering. During the following missions, however, they’d crossed the Avengers’ path so often… and with increasing opposition. Where there had been two dozens, there were now hundreds. And they fought back harder—and seemed to adapt to the Avenger’s fighting style.

Steve had been in the thick of it when things started getting out of hand, because _he always fucking was_ , and before Thor had managed to fight his way towards Steve’s position, he’d already been beaten to a bloody pulp.

Tony had watched it all. Watched the video feed of Steve falling to his knees. Watched as his vitals had made the transition from being in pain to falling into unconsciousness. Tony had cursed the holographs, then cursed himself, knowing—even before the thought registered in his mind—that this would _never_ happen again.

At medical, they told him that Steve’s improvement was remarkable. They told him that they had never admitted a patient with that amount of excessive blood loss and had such immediate results. They told him that Steve was doing extraordinarily well and that the entire healing process was progressing beautifully. They told him that it was just minutes shy of a certified miracle. That Steve was going to be all right. That Steve was one lucky, lucky man, and that he would be just fine.

Tony heard none of it.

He only stood numbly and nodded when nodding was called for. Despite the glowing report of success, Steve was still unconscious. And Tony had absolutely no grasp on how much time had passed. He knew it couldn’t have been too long, since the Avengers brigade had not yet arrived. Natasha had checked on him over the comm line many times, but apart from that, Tony was still alone.

He didn’t even know if they were still fighting. He didn’t care.

There was nothing he could do but sit at Steve’s bedside and wait. And he did nothing but watch him. The same as he’d done all those last weeks. Watching Steve. Watching them all. Sitting at home and doing nothing while the world was in danger.

God, how had things come to this? Steve was right—he had been a hero, once, a defender of earth. And he failed them. All he had done was wait; wait and fucking watch.

The room’s whiteness was blinding to his eyes. Hospitals were like that, he supposed. Illuminated with false light. Tony licked his lips and neared to brush a thumb over Steve’s forehead, his own eyes falling shut at the feel of his soft skin against his fingers. “You gotta wake up for me,” he said softly. “Come on, Cap. It’s time now.”

There was nothing. He hadn’t been expecting something, but it felt like a failure all the same. His head dipped with gentle reverence. “We can’t do this without you. I can’t… You were right. I was a coward for leaning back and letting you go out there alone. I’m gonna do better. I promise. From now on, I’m gonna have your back. You just need to wake up for me.”

Minutes ticked by and nothing happened. Steve lay there, dead to him, unreachable by circumstances he himself had created.

“Tony.”

Natasha was standing in the doorway, a worried look marring her brow. Tony didn’t know how long she had been there—in his current state, he was only in tune to the man at his side, so there was no way he could tell the time—and he didn’t care to ask. He merely nodded and attempted a weak smile. “Hey,” he murmured in greeting.

She smiled halfheartedly. “How is he?”

“Fantastic, from what the doctors tell me,” Tony retorted. “It’s a wonder he’s not already running laps.” He glanced down with sadness that he hadn’t known for a long time. “Are the others here?”

Natasha nodded. “In the hall.” Her eyes drifted to the unconscious blonde. “There are some things we need to talk about.”

Tony glanced to his hands. _Things_. Yes. He had seen this coming. It was only fair that they’d blame this on him. They had every right to do so.

“Right,” he agreed.

The whole merry lot of them was there. Bruce, Thor, Clint and Sam. All of them battle-worn and with different stages of exhaustion etched onto their faces.

“What happened out there?” Tony asked. “JARVIS said you were doing fine, until—”

“We were,” Clint replied harshly. “Until we weren’t. They came out of nowhere. We didn’t even see them coming. And Steve took the brunt force.”

Tony sighed. “We underestimated their threat.”

They all nodded their heads simultaneously.

“I was sure they were drones,” Natasha said. “But they are far too clever for that. Whatever we bring out against them, they adapt within seconds.”

Tony bowed his head in shame, voicing the words that were gnawing at his insides. “I know. Saw it. And I should’ve been out there to warn you.”

“But you weren’t,” Clint bit out, earning himself a light push from Thor.

“It’s not his fault,” the god said.

Tony’s eyes fogged over. “If I’d known he would—”

“We know that, Tony,” Natasha’s words were so soft he thought them nonexistent until he read the sincerity in her eyes. “We’re not blaming this on you.”

He exhaled deeply, looking up at them, meeting every single pair of eyes with squared shoulders. “It won’t happen again. From here on out I’m… I’m gonna be there. With you.”

The silence that settled over the corridor was all compassing. Thor grinned, looking a little shaky in the aftermath of the battle, but overall pleased with himself. Bruce cast Tony a warm little smile while he clutched a blanket around his naked torso, and Sam gave him a respectful nod.

“About time, man,” Clint mumbled, ignoring the glare Natasha shot his way.

So here they were, standing at their respective posts. Eventually, they all walked back into Steve’s room and settled down next to his bed. Tony took the rocker, Natasha assumed a folding chair across the bed, flipping idly through a magazine that she had seemingly brandished from nowhere. The others dropped down on the spare bed next to Steve’s. They stayed like that for several hours, before Steve finally— _finally_ —opened his eyes.

This was his team, Tony realized then and there. His _friends_ , however long it had taken him to admit that. And he wouldn’t let them down again.

Not as long as he had any breath to keep fighting.


	2. phase two = {‘launch and execution’}

**description = {‘a project plan is put in action, outlining the work to be performed. This is a good time to discuss important project related information with your client.’}**

 

 

Mark Forty-Three was all dark red, gold and beautiful.

From the outside, it looked very similar to Mark Forty-Two, just with a darker hue and thicker plating. Tony almost did the whole build from memory. The schematics were still wired into his brain, etched deep into his mind, as Tony had known they’d be.

“Might I say, sir,” JARVIS said over the sounds of the loud Avengers-alarm, “that I have sorely missed this sight?”

Tony smiled, leaning back in his chair and looking up at his newest creation. “Same here, buddy.” He clapped his hands. “Let’s just hope this wasn’t just my next giant fuck-up.” He stood up, coming to a halt right in front of the suit. “All right. Open up, honey.”

The suit unfolded immediately, encompassing Tony in its cold and familiar hug.

By the time Tony had stepped outside, New York was already on fire. Sirens were ringing through the early evening. Flashes of red and blue, the resounding bounce of bullets sprayed across the pavement.

The white-masked robots had returned the day after Steve had been discharged from medical. Steve looked—for all the world—like nothing had happened to him. The bruises on his face had faded, and every broken bone was set back into place. Only if you knew where to look, you could still see him limping from time to time, spot a little hunch in his posture, a tiny hitch whenever he threw his shield.

Something in the air made Tony’s skin hum. It was neither good nor bad, pleasant nor unpleasant; it simply was. Some sort of foreboding.

“The others already up and at ‘em?” Tony asked JARVIS, glancing around at the new and improved HUD.

“Indeed, sir. The situation seems to be under control for now, but the enemy’s numbers are increasing by two point eight per minute. I cannot disclose their origin, yet.”

“Of course not. Just… keep looking. I’m just gonna do a little warm-up in the meantime. Nothing like a few hundred robots to ease me back into the game.”

“Someone once told me ‘you gotta run before you can walk’, sir.”

Tony snorted, giving the HUD a long glare. “You waited all these years to throw this one back at me, didn’t you?”

“That would require an amount of malice I am not capable of.”

“Yeah, just keep telling yourself that,” Tony said with amusement. Then, he closed his eyes and redirected all energy power into the foot-thrusters. The next second, he was racing hard and fast over New York’s skyline. Flying, hearing the wind rush past him, it was… it was overwhelming. Just a few minutes in the sky and he didn’t know how he’d managed to survive without this for so long.

The continuous spiral of red and blue was blinding against the dark night sky. There were camera crews all around, even though the area was clearly prone to destruction. The scream of sirens seemed to grow louder even as the cars remained where they were, blocking every possible corner of the streets around them.

Half an hour and some glorious ass-kicking on Tony’s part later, he spotted Steve tumbling off a building, because the guy was a goddamn _magnet_ for all kinds of trouble.

Nevertheless, Tony rushed to his side as fast as he possibly could, closing up to Steve in no time and gathering him in his arms. Steve had been yelling into his comm, trying and failing to somehow get a grip on the building’s wall as he went down hard and fast. As soon as Iron Man’s arms closed around him, though, his screaming stuttered to a surprised halt.

“What—” Steve said, staring up at him in utter disbelief. “Tony?”

“The one and only.”

Steve was not smiling; he just kept staring at him with the strangest expression. If Tony didn’t know better, he might have called it awe. “You did it, you…” Steve stopped, huffing a laugh into the cold air. “And not a second too late.”

“You know me. I’m all about the big show.”

Steve shook his head slowly. “Now, I know that’s not true.”

A strange ache came over Tony at that. “Well, I also made a promise,” he said. “No one’s gonna get hurt again if I get a say in it.”

Steve smiled at him in a simple and almost childlike way, and said, “No one, huh?” There was a challenge in his tone, and Tony felt himself flush.

“Yeah, well,” Tony mumbled. “You won’t get hurt again. Seeing you so broken, I couldn’t—”

It was in that exact moment that Tony realized it. Realized why his heart was suddenly racing when he felt Steve’s welcomed weight in his arms. Steve’s eyes were large and beautiful and oh _shit_ —

He was in love with Steve.

Oh no. Oh _God_.

How did that happened? How had he not seen this coming? Though, if he was honest, since last Christmas and everything that had led to this exact moment, a sinking sense of inevitability had seemed to follow him wherever he went.

 _Fuck_ , was that realization ever overwhelming. As if Tony’s heart was too big, as if he couldn’t breathe. For over a year he had worried that he was simply not capable of loving someone. Not like normal people, at least. He’d tried so damn hard with Pepper, but once their relationship had ended—once he had come home to an empty penthouse, he’d started to wonder.

Maybe there was something wrong with him.

And then Steve had barreled into his life. He was gentle and honest; and he was so incredibly not like Tony had expected him to be. He’d never met anyone remotely like him. Since Steve had wormed his way into Tony’s life, things had never returned to the way they’d been before.

Because… _before,_ acknowledging Steve’s eyes or his flushed skin or his endless goodness clearly hadn’t been on the list of things that Tony usually considered. And now, here he was, hovering over New York’s skyline and carrying Captain America in his arms. The startled look in Steve’s eyes and the pink highlights on his cheeks were welcome. And it might’ve been just the cold winds sweeping around them that brought the flush on Steve’s skin, but _still._ Looking at Steve, and seeing him so flustered while he was usually so grounded, so sure of himself—it made Tony feel strangely warm.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve asked, a little breathless, but there was no accusation in his voice, just a low tone of wonder. His pupils were rapidly flickering across Iron Man’s helmet, like he couldn’t possibly absorb the sight fast enough. “I never thought I’d see you in the suit again.”

His eyes were so blue. Tony was trying with everything in him not to look Steve directly in the eye, but he was looking anyway, and the intensity of his stare was enough to make him shake.

“Thought I’d surprise you,” Tony said simply.

Steve huffed. “What, in the middle of an invasion?”

“If you think I’d rebuild Iron Man for any reason other than world-saving, you don’t know me at all.”

Tony saw Steve’s hand reach toward his chest plate. The tips of his fingers softly grazed the edge of the arc reactor. All of the effort and expense had been worth it, Tony thought. Just for that.

“Thanks for catching me,” Steve said. “That looked bad for a moment.”

“Every time, Cap,” Tony answered, and it was true: The solid weight of Steve, the light flush on his cheeks was _everything_. And after all that had led to this moment, there was nothing better than finally holding him in his arms.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After that… Tony _might_ have gone a little overboard with trying to improve Iron Man’s capability of carrying Steve around.

Upon returning home from his first mission, he asked JARVIS to open up a new project file and named it _Project Flag Bearer._ It had the sole purpose of finding out what had went wrong with the Avengers’ current Carrying-Steve-Technique and fixing each problem asap, making sure that Steve had the best possible protection guaranteed in every situation imaginable.

He’d started with making Mark Forty-Four a lot quicker, with better maneuverability to be at Steve side whenever he needed him. There were now little retractable hooks and handles everywhere, so that Steve could get a good grip on the armor whenever he needed it. The little parachute in Iron Man’s back-plate that could automatically wrap itself around Steve’s torso might’ve not been needed so far, but—Tony liked to be prepared, okay? Sue him, he was a genius—he simply didn’t do things half-assed.

And he was damn well doing this right by Steve.

Strangely enough, Steve volunteered to be his guinea pig for all of the test-runs, and enthusiastically so, letting himself be thrown around the sky even a good mile off the ground. He jumped off of buildings, did little stunts right on Iron Man’s back and wound his body tightly around the suit while they spiraled through the sky at top speed.

Hands down, the guy was a complete adrenaline junkie.

Apart from that, hanging around Steve these days almost felt like a sacrament. After realizing how he felt for Steve, his presence was a constant reminder of what Tony couldn’t have. A forbidden fruit of sorts. He’d been there before, and had done this more times than he rightfully should have. He’d already gotten his fill of people that were too good for him.

And yet, Steve was right beside him. All the time. And he had that look in his eyes again tonight. Like talking with Tony was just as much fun for him as it was for Tony. Like… _being_ with Tony was one of those things he was really looking forward to each day.

Or it might be just wishful thinking.

The moment the workshop’s door opened, DUM-E and U were whirling past Tony, screeching with glee as they threw all kinds of metal parts in the air around them.

Tony sighed as he took a few more steps into the room. “I shouldn’t have left them all to themselves right after charging.” He sent Steve a meaningful glare over his shoulder. “Damn you and your tempting post-dinner nap suggestions.”

Steve grinned impishly. “That’s right. Blame the one worried about your health.”

“It’s what you’re there for, right?”

“Keeping you healthy and coherent? Yeah, someone’s gotta.”

Tony just rolled his eyes. He sat down in front of his workbench, pointing Steve to where he needed to stand next to the new Iron Man suit. He opened the newest side project of ‘Project Flag Bearer’ and instructed JARVIS to run a last flight-simulation.

“I mean—heaven forbid you get a little shuteye,” Steve continued with a theatrical tone as he took hold on Iron Man’s back-plate. “God knows what you’d be able to do if you were wide-awake one day. We could all be doomed.”

Tony snorted inarticulately.

“I guess you’re right,” Steve amended. “I am one heartless bastard for caring about you.”

“Well,” Tony said and cocked his head to the side. “Not like I can’t do it myself. Forty-five years and I’m still here. Owner of a multi-billion company, pilot of a state-of-art battle armor, leader of the only superhero team in the world—”

“Co-leader,” Steve supplied with an amused expression, as he bent down a little, so his knees were aligned with the suit’s.

“I'm sure that’s just temporary. Yes, stay in that position, that’s perfect. Let me just …” Tony pressed a few more keys on the holographic keyboard, uploading the new maneuver to the servers.

Steve nodded and favored him with a warm smile that did things to Tony’s heart that couldn’t be healthy. “Did I ever tell you how fascinated I was with the suit, back when we met?”

“You were?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. “You did a good job of hiding that, then.”

Steve shrugged, still smiling. “What did you expect? I didn’t want to seem… too excited, I guess. Man out of time going crazy over the ‘modern tech’,” he said, doing air quotes. “You were teasing me enough as it was.”

Tony stepped up right next to Steve while JARVIS brought the suit in position, making it bow down a bit so Steve could grab the handle at its back. “I wouldn’t have teased you for that. Pretty much everyone gets a little excited when they get an up-close on the suit. I would be flying with a boner half of the time if I had the visuals.”

Steve laughed. “Good to know.”

“Just telling the truth.” Tony shrugged easily.

Steve shot him a dry look but didn’t reply.

“All right, this looks like it could work. Shall we start?” Tony asked, as the suit opened up for him to step inside.

Steve nodded, as he pressed his chest against Iron Man’s back just like they’d practiced. “Absolutely.”

“Prepare to be amazed,” Tony said, as the armor pushed upwards. Its legs were in a perfect arc for Steve’s calves, and he could easily bring his knees in position should he ever feel the need to jump off of Iron Man quickly.

Steve rested his chin against the suit’s neck, murmuring, “I always am.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The robots were becoming a serious problem. By the end of the next mission, Tony was so exhausted that he simply floated in the air, faceplate up to get a little fresh air. He was so worn out, his mind blanked out completely. His muscles ached, his head was throbbing and looking at his teammate’s vitals, the others weren’t faring much better.

This had been one hell of a fight, hours upon hours of smashing these robots, each one fighting back just a little bit harder than the one before.

And now Tony simply hovered a few inches off the ground, flying slowly over the battlefield as he watched Steve bash the last two robots right into the ground. His movements looked tired, and yet so vicious and precise. Steve was pure muscle and power, his upper body a map of little cuts and welts that were already half healed, his hair a wild tangle, his eyes flashing brilliantly as he swung at the robot again, landing a punch to its jaw that sent it soaring through the air and into the harsh, unforgiving side of a brick building.

God, the man was _glorious._

“Sir, you’re—”

“Mm-mm,” Tony hummed, ignoring whatever JARVIS was saying, his mind a complete haze and his brain unsure of where this train of thought was even headed. Each move Steve made was a piece of living art. He bent. He twirled. He kicked. He threw punches. He poured himself into every movement, and Tony decided then and there that seeing Steve in action was all he needed from now on.

 _“Sir!”_ JARVIS called with more urgency, and then, there was a little warning-vibration jolting through the armor’s limbs, before—

He met a hard surface.

_With his face._

He crashed into stone and all went black.

When he awoke, his head was spiraling. He was lying on the sidewalk, body still in the armor. Someone must’ve removed his helmet, though, and there was some some blanket stuffed underneath his neck. When he looked up, he started right into the grinning face of Natasha.

“You’re a hopeless cause, Tony,” she told him simply and stood up, making room for Steve, who knelt down next to him with a medkit and a soft smile.

“Easy now,” he said, and instantly pressed a bag of ice against Tony’s temple. He tried and failed to conceal his mirth. “There you go.”

Tony groaned and tried to move up. “Could you be anymore condescending?”

“You’re welcome. Stay down. JARVIS says you have a mild concussion.”

Tony huffed indignantly as Steve practically forced his body back onto the ground.

“Fly into buildings often?” Steve asked, eyes twinkling with visible amusement. He twisted off the top of some disinfectant, and tore into a package of sterile pads.

“Oh, suck it,” Tony snapped, huffing at Steve’s dancing eyes.

Steve raised a hand to the place on Tony’s head that had suffered the brunt of the wall-to-face collision. The corner of his mouth lifted. “Come here. Let’s see the damage.”

“I don’t need your help.” However, that knowledge didn’t seem to stop him from leaning into Steve’s touch. “Ow fuck.”

Steve ran his fingers gently over the wound, frowning when it came away red. “Got a bad cut,” he murmured. “You know what you shouldn’t do anymore?”

Tony sighed, glaring at Steve. “Fly into buildings?”

Steve shrugged. “Just a thought.”

“It’s only a bruise,” Tony replied and hissed as Steve tilted his chin and slapped some disinfectant soaked gauze against his temple, pressing down on it.

“A cut.” Steve smiled at him unrepentantly. “And you’re bleeding all over the place. Something got you distracted?”

Tony tried very hard not to stick his tongue out at him. “I’m a certified genius, there are many reasons why I could be distracted, and most of them are likely to change the world.”

Steve snorted, as he tilted Tony’s head to the side to look for more injuries. The gauze stayed right where it as. “I have no doubt.”

“I’m just special like that.”

“No need to tell me, Shellhead. I know exactly how special you are.” He sighed a little. “That’s probably gonna need stitches. You kicked me from ‘Number One on Twitter’ by the way. Happy?”

Tony glowered at him, saying without really thinking about it, “This is all your fault, really. Yours and your damsel-tendencies’.”

Steve’s shit-eating grin was just plain infuriating. With his free hand, he reached up to smooth out a smudge on Tony’s cheek. “Thinking of me that much, are you?”

Tony huffed and looked sideways. “Just trying to look out for you, that’s all.”

“Highly appreciated,” Steve said. “But maybe watch where you’re flying next time, alright?”

Tony pressed his gauntlet to his brow and hissed. “I’ll keep it in mind. Is it bad?”

Steve shook his head, his grin broadening some more. “No, you look good.”

Tony tried so very hard to ignore the way his stomach filled with butterflies and how his heart pounded just a little faster, but he couldn’t. “That’s nice, but I was talking about my forehead.”

“Your forehead’s looking good, too.”

Tony broke his gaze from Steve’s. He couldn’t possibly know what he was doing to him. And that Brooklyn accent was going to get his brain cells fried one day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Tony awoke and instantly let out a moan as his head started to thump. It took a few seconds, but everything came surging back with brilliance Tony was too tired to consider. Bits, pieces, then the whole puzzle.

He’d flown right into a building because he’d been busy ogling Steve. _Great_.

His infatuation with Steve was really getting out of hand. The team was giving him knowing looks by now and it was only a matter of time before Steve would find out as well.

And what then? Loving Steve could end up being one of the worst mistakes Tony had ever made. He knew it, knew it could easily be the end of their friendship, and no amount of telling himself that Steve wouldn’t just drop him like that could keep him grounded.

Tony slowly sat up on the bed and wavered almost immediately. “Oh fuck,” he moaned and expelled a deep breath. “I’m getting too old for this.”

There was a soft and distinctively female snort. “That never kept you before.”

Tony twisted his upper body around, almost getting whiplash while looking for the source of the words. He might have felt shocked by the intrusion—and the source of intrusion—but his head was already killing him, and it was hard to feel anything at that point. When he saw Pepper sitting in one of his bedroom’s lounge chairs, typing something on her phone, he tried very hard not to freak out right then and there.

“Security breach,” he said, stupidly staring at Pepper’s form.

Taking this for an invitation he hadn’t meant it to be, Pepper pocketed her phone and walked over to the bed. It’d been so long since the sound of her high heels had echoed through the penthouse. “I wanted to come sooner,” she said. “But… you know how it is.” She hesitantly perched on the edge of the bed. How a woman so strong could smell so sweet, he didn’t know, but he wanted to fill his lungs with it.

“Yeah, I know how it is,” Tony replied quietly. “Leads me to the question: Why now?”

Pepper smiled kindly. “Well, for one, I think this is way overdue. I really did want to come here sooner. Also, you’re all over the media…”

“Because I flew into a building,” Tony conceded with a huff.

“Because you flew into a building,” Pepper agreed, smiling softly. “So I thought a visit to the sick was in order.”

“To talk me out of it?”

Pepper shook her head. “No. Honestly, I was really surprised it took you so long to get back out there. Iron Man’s a part of you—I know that now.”

Tony just smiled at her.

She smiled back and petted his hand with reassurance. “That being said… should we talk about your crush on Captain America?”

Tony closed his eyes briefly and paused to gather his bearings. Took a deep breath.

Of course Pepper would know about his feelings for Steve. Through the muffled buzz of painkillers in his head, he tried to force down the blush that was threatening to cover his whole face. Talking with your ex about your new crush on your childhood hero? Not something he was looking forward to.

“Who told you?” he asked quietly. “Natasha?”

“Yes,” Pepper admitted and moved a little closer. “I’m not here to make fun of you. I always figured the both of you only caught each other on the wrong foot.”

He opened his eyes, squinting at her. “So what—you want me to be with him now?”

Pepper sighed, leaning back. “I just want you to be happy. I’m just saying… you and Steve? I wasn’t all that surprised. After New York, you wouldn’t stop talking about him.”

“Because I was _mad_ at him,” Tony insisted.

“Because you were mad at him for declining your offer of moving into the tower, yes,” Pepper said. “Because he chose to do his motorcycle-trip instead.”

Tony wasn’t sure if it was the painkillers or merely the absurdity of this situation, but suddenly he couldn’t stop laughing—hoarse, hysterical laughter. Had all of this really started all this time ago? Fuck, he was really losing it.

“Tony,” Pepper said and softly shook his shoulder as if to bring him out of a stupor. “Stop it. This is a good thing.”

Like a switch being flipped, the laughter suddenly died. It was like a sledgehammer to the chest and as if on cue, all of his worries and fears suddenly spilled over his lips: “How exactly is falling for your best friend a good thing?” he asked. “I see him _every_ day, _every_ hour. We spar together, we eat together, we watch movies together. He comes down to my shop to draw, he drags me into the gym, he…” He stopped abruptly, his brown eyes cutting to one side to avoid her gaze. “What if… what if he’s disgusted with me? He’s from the _twenties_ , Jesus Christ. What if he thinks I’m mental or something…”

Pepper tried to put a comforting hand on his arm, but he swatted it away as if it were a bothersome fly. He swallowed hard but couldn’t quite force down the lump that had formed in his throat. His voice rasped a little when he told Pepper, “I can’t lose him. I just _can’t_ …”

Pepper sank down further on the bed, catching his face before he could turn away, and Tony didn’t have the power to pull away this time. “Do you even listen to yourself? You just said it yourself: He spends _all_ of his time with you.”

Tony remained silent, a knot in his stomach forming. He wouldn’t look at her. Couldn’t. He was afraid that if he did, he would crack after all and beg her to take him back, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with all of these new and frightening _feelings_.

She reached out to touch his arm. “Don’t do this—Tony, hey—”

“I’m always messing everything up,” he muttered. “I finally have people around who can deal with my antics and I… make it all worse—”

“— _oh God_ , you didn’t do anything wrong,” Pepper insisted.

“No matter what I fucking do—”

“Why are you fighting this so hard?”

“Why am I—” Tony started, too harshly, he knew, but this had been weighing on his chest for far too long. “Do you even know what losing you did to me? I didn’t just feel _bad_ for a while, Pepper, I… I fucking _lost_ myself. I knew all along that I couldn’t give you what you needed, I just didn’t want to believe it. In fact, I pretty much forced myself not to. I wanted that life with you. I knew we were drowning and I didn’t want to look for a way out of the water. When you left, nothing made sense anymore. Not Iron Man, not anything…” He swallowed hard. “It wasn’t until Steve and Nat turned up on Christmas before I… resurfaced. He just… Steve made my life so much better and I—I’m just so fucking afraid to mess that up.”

After a long, dumbfounded moment, Pepper uttered a quiet and very soft “Oh, Tony”, but Tony didn’t hear her. He couldn’t risk losing Steve. He couldn’t go through being alone again. Determination sank in. He really needed to get some distance from Steve. Remind his heart that it had no business with falling for super-soldiers.

His eyes were fixed on the wall, all his thoughts focused on the effort of not breaking down. He jumped when he first felt Pepper’s arms slide around him. Distracted as he was, he hadn’t seen her movement, and his immediate instinct was to pull away. It had been almost two years since he’d felt a caress from her, and it made him uneasy. But when he eventually glanced into her eyes, he saw nothing of the regret and long-suffering that had once clouded her beautiful features whenever she’d looked at him, but instead friendship, and profound understanding.

His muscles relaxed then, and his face dropped onto the top of her head. And for the first time in a very long time, he allowed himself the luxury of simply hugging Pepper.

“I missed you,” he told her quietly and felt her features break into a soft smile against his neck.

“I missed you, too.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t know how he had managed it but he completely stayed away from Steve for a week after that. A long, long week of using all the self-control he possessed to keep from seeking him out. He needed the time away from him, a break from the torture of his presence, a break from constantly _wanting_.

However, Steve would not stop trying to spend time with Tony. For him, nothing had changed. Tony didn’t want to lose Steve’s friendship, didn’t want to shut him out, but at the same time, he couldn’t be near him.

Not now.

The water ran down Tony’s back and slowly, the sore muscles started to ease a little. After another two days in the workshop he’d admitted defeat and had shuffled into the elevator and up to penthouse. Although he tried to push the thoughts away, his mind always wandered back to Steve. The looks he gave him whenever they met in the tower’s hallways or in the conference room for debrief; the confusion on his face whenever their gazes had met.

He knew that the inevitable talk would come, sooner than later. Just like he knew that Steve would distance himself from Tony as soon as he found out. Maybe not right away, but Tony was well aware that this was something most friendships couldn’t push through.

Tony didn’t know how long he’d been in the shower but when he turned off the water, a thick cloud of mist had formed in the room. He stepped out of the small enclosure, wrapping a towel around his hips.

When he went back into the other room, there was a knock on the door.

“Hold on,” he called as he let the towel fall to the floor and started rummaging through his drawers in search for a pair of briefs. The next second, though, the door opened.

It was Steve. Of course, it was.

Tony yelped and reached down to cover himself as best as he could. Then, he bent down to grab for the towel, leveling a glare in Steve’s direction. “What’s the point of knocking if you don’t wait for my reply? The golden generation was supposed to be polite, you know?”

Steve only frowned at him, not saying anything.

“I’m in a towel, here!”

Something about Steve’s flushed cheeks told him that he’d noticed; as did the way he looked him up and down and swallowed uncomfortably. “I can see that. I—um—I was just wondering… you didn’t come down for dinner in a few days. The team’s starting to worry.”

Just hearing his voice had Tony ready to pull his hair out. He was so aware of Steve. Every little breath he took echoed in his lungs. “So JARVIS told me. Doesn’t explain why you’d just turn up here.”

“I,” Steve started, looking almost hurt, “you didn’t show. I was worried. Excuse a guy for coming up to check on a friend.”

A friend. Right. ‘Cause that was all they’d ever be.

It was that thought that flooded his insides with bitterness all over again.

“You can obviously see that I’m here. I’m alive. I’m in one piece. And I’m still in a towel. So you can un-invite yourself now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Steve deflated at that, poking out his lower lip as his eyes turned in contemplation. Not that Tony was particularly interested in his eyes at the moment—not with Steve’s mouth begging silently for his own, and certainly not with the deliciously steady rise and fall of his chest tempting Tony’s achingly empty hands.

Eventually, Steve stalked forward. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Other than the fact that I wanna get naked without worrying about someone ogling me? Nothing. Nothing is fucking wrong with me.”

Steve swallowed, and Tony knew he was unsure of himself. But he soldiered on bravely. Steve always did.

“Stop it. That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair. What? You’ve only been around since _Moses_ and you haven’t figured that out?” Tony jerked his pajama bottoms out of his chest of drawers and worried a lip between his teeth. He was in a bad mood to end all moods, he knew that. Being in love with your best friend who’d never feel the same about you would do that to you. And every second Steve lingered around like a broken puppy, the more difficult it became to keep his façade up. “Look—I had a long, rough day and I don’t intend to make tomorrow another one. I need to sleep, that’s all. Just… just leave, okay?”

Tony turned around, hand clutching the towel around his waist and his stomach falling when Steve took another step forward. God, did the guy have a learning deficiency or something? Tony just wanted to go to bed, maybe give his dick a little loving, thinking of Steve, and—

He froze, his eyes going wide. Bad thought. So bad. No, he wouldn’t—

In seconds, his dick was hard. _Shit_. If he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, Steve needed to leave right fucking now.

He raised his eyes to Steve’s once more. “Really, Steve. You need to go. Please. Go.”

Stupid guy seemed to take every demand for his absence as an invitation to come closer. “You look… Tony, are you okay?”

No, he was very much not okay. His legs were wobbly, his dick was throbbing, and he couldn’t think straight, damnit. “No. I mean yes. Yes, I’m fine. Please leave. I mean it. _Leave_.”

Steve paused and his gaze flickered down for a second, and then flew back up at Tony with a strangely calm expression. “Tony, there’s something I really need to tell—”

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony interrupted. “I can’t…” He awkwardly pointed down to the tented towel. “Do I really need to say more? I can’t do this right now.”

“ _Tony_ —”

“You just caught me at a bad time, okay?”

Steve frowned again. It was maddening how cute he looked when irritated—it was maddening that Tony had to notice it at all. Especially at such a time when he had seemingly lost possession of his body.

Steve opened his mouth, and closed it again, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to say more or not. Eventually, he nodded, though, biting his lower lip while he slowly walked over to the elevator. Tony saw the acceptance in his expression but also something akin to defeat. “It’s my turn to make breakfast tomorrow.”

“Wonderful,” Tony replied and leaned against the dark window with one hand stretched high. “Have fun doing that.”

He heard Steve sigh heavily at that. He hesitated, turned his head in Tony’s direction once more, but ultimately decided to leave him alone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As the days went by, there were several more robot-attacks the team had to work through together. Eventually, Tony resigned himself to his fate and tried not to let it show too much how much being near Steve—without being _near_ him—was killing him.

The robots were coming at them with increasing force and how they had managed to beat them every time so far was beyond Tony.

He emitted a weary sigh and directed himself thoughtlessly to his working desk, opening up the current blueprints of his suit. There were so many repairs to be done. So many things to improve. His eyes were tired just from trying to keep them open, his arms strained with too much exertion and the innate but denied need to find rest.

Maybe he was really getting too old for the whole superhero thing.

He grabbed for the cup of fresh coffee next to him and downed a large mouthful, letting it warm his tongue. It had barely started its path down his throat when the sliding door flew open and Tony swallowed in surprise, coughing a little as he jumped to his feet.

He had kind of expected to see Steve standing in the doorway and didn’t know if he should be disappointed or not when he didn’t.

“That was locked,” Tony said, and tried to hide his surprise when he watched Rhodey walk up towards him. He had this sort of very serious expressions going for him, and Tony already knew he wouldn’t like that conversation.

“So you actually brought a coffee machine down here,” Rhodey said, gently petting DUM-E’s claw in greeting as he walked into the shop. “Wasn’t that Pepper’s big number one rule all these years?”

“Well, Pepper’s not here to stop me.” Tony eyed him warily. “What are you doing here?”

Rhodey pulled his hand away from DUM-E and crossed his arms over his chest. “What, I can’t come here to visit you anymore?”

“You can if you want to, but you normally don’t,” Tony replied. “Not unless you need upgrades, which JARVIS says you don’t. So what brings you down into my lair?”

Rhodey sighed emphatically. “You know exactly how busy I’ve been,” he pointed out. “Stop guilt-tripping me, shithead. You didn’t visit either.”

“See, now I know there’s something on your mind,” Tony replied. “You’re trying to make me defensive, which means you’re looking for an argument to distract me from something.”

Rhodey opened his mouth to retort, but quickly snapped it shut. Instead, he dropped his hands to his sides and wandered across the room to sit on the couch where Steve usually sat down to draw. “Pepper called me,” he said eventually. “Told me to talk some sense into you.”

Tony snorted. “Sounds like something she would do.”

“You’ve been down here an awfully lot,” Rhodey supplied quietly. “You’re not dying again, are you?”

Tony shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Rhodey glanced at him quizzically. “So this really is because of Rogers?”

Wonderful. Tony groaned, letting his head fall into his waiting hands. Of course Pepper would have told him. Fuck it. He wasn’t nearly awake enough for this shit.

“Last time we talked, I recall you saying something about how much you hated the guy,” Rhodey said with a low voice.

Tony wanted to look away, but Rhodey’s intense gaze seemed to hold him in thrall, and he couldn’t break the connection. After a moment, though, Rhodey’s impassive face slowly settled on something akin to amusement. “Damn Tony, you really like him?”

What Tony would’ve _liked_ was to bang his head repeatedly on the desk, but instead, he opted to simply plant his forehead down on the cold surface and keep it there. “He’s just so…” he started, trailing off for a second. He wasn’t ready for this. For letting anyone know how far gone he truly was. “He’s… not how I expected him to be.”

Rhodey’s mouth twitched. “You always liked a surprise. And you think he might be—”

“No,” Tony snapped, probably a little too fiercely. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? He’s not… I _know_ it’s crazy, okay? I mean… he’s Captain fucking America.”

Rhodey shrugged, unbothered. “I’d say it was crazy if it was anyone but you,” Rhodey replied. “The guy’s a full-time hero. He’s larger than life without ever having to lift a finger. That’s nice in theory, man, but… who could he possibly be with? I fly around in a super armor almost every day and even I can’t stand being around you people longer than a few days. You’re no regular people, Tones. And experience shows you need not-regular people around you.” He leaned forward, looking Tony straight in the eyes. “What I’m saying is, if he swings that way, I don’t see a problem. Rogers likes you, from what Natasha is saying. You know, in that over-the-top sort of way that can only be explained with rose-tinted glasses?”

Tony grimaced. “You’re making fun of me.”

Rhodey grinned and hugged him with a note of spontaneity. “I’m being supportive. If I wanted to make fun of you, it wouldn’t be for having the hots for Captain America. You can’t really tell me you’re all that surprised. First time we went to a fraternity party, you ended up running across Simmons Hall in nothing but your Captain America boxers.”

Tony rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “You had the same pair, buddy.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t end up wanting to bang the guy.”

Tony swallowed, bracing himself. “You think it’s… It’s stupid, right? He wouldn’t… actually want me.”

There was a long drawn-out sigh. “Well, I can’t really read his mind, but… he did spend all of his time down here, before you kicked him out of the shop sad and alone, right?”

Tony frowned quizzically. “Right.”

“And when I arrived here, he was talking everyone’s ear off about you. The guy looked like someone stole his shield or something. He’s… he obviously cares, Tony. In a way that doesn’t look all that platonic to me.”

Tony sighed, caressing his brow with the foreknowledge of an impending headache.

“What I’m saying is,” Rhodey went on, “maybe you should just give it a chance.”

A _chance_ , Tony thought.

He made it all sound so easy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was the next week, and they’d just defeated another surge of the white-masked robots. Their research on the robot’s origin led them nowhere. JARVIS had scanned the whole city and every building in it. There was nothing. Whoever brought these robots forth did a damn good job at hiding himself. The attacks were definitely getting worse, though. The robots adapted so fast, and whatever new things the Avengers dished out at them didn’t work anymore when the next attack came around.

There wasn’t a fight now that didn’t at least leave one of them bruised and broken, and Tony was fucking tired of sleeping his pains away in medical. He didn’t want to justify his actions to Steve, didn’t want to be prodded, and refused to play Q&A with some leftover agent of SHIELD. He just wanted to be alone, and have a little quiet.

However, it seemed that Steve simply couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Tony hadn’t seen him following when he’d retreated to the penthouse, but as soon as he limped his way through the door, Steve was already there.

“You stalking me now?” Tony almost spat at him as he pulled both arms out of his black undersuit. He was in a foul mood; he was sore as hell and really just wanted to drop down on the bed and not move for a week.

“I want to see your leg,” Steve said, all too calmly.

“Honestly, Steve, do you not know when to let it go? Get a hobby and leave me alone.”

A cold draft settled over Steve at that and his eyes darkened. “Not until I’m sure you’re okay. Show me your leg.”

Tony made a face and tossed him a nasty look. “Yeah. Of all the things plausible to happen in this world, can you imagine how far down I’ve put ‘letting Captain America check out my leg’ on the list?”

Steve suddenly slammed a hand down on the wall next to him and glared. “I’m so _sick_ of you hiding away from us! You got hurt. I saw you limping. And now you will talk to me.”

Tony stopped short and pivoted, his arms crossing. His whole body was one giant bruise, but the one Steve was referring to was a little bit too close to the crown jewels, to be honest. And there was no way in this life or the next that he would share this intimate detail with Steve—not now, not like this. It would just add something else to the growing desperation within him.

When Tony didn’t answer, the anger in Steve’s eyes softened. “Just let me see your leg and I’ll be—”

“You’re not seeing my leg!”

Shit, Steve was close. Close in ways that wouldn’t have affected Tony just a few weeks ago. Close in ways that would undoubtedly taunt him as he slept that night. But God, he looked good. Still battle-worn and grimy, but so open and inviting. The impulse to throw himself in Steve’s arms was growing more persistent by the second.

“Please,” Steve said hoarsely, as though tempted by the same conflicting thoughts.

Tony forced himself to ignore the protesting voice that demanded he take him by the hand, drag him to the bedroom, and do naughty things to him until morning. That voice led to nowhere good.

“It’s…” Tony sighed, biting the bullet, since Steve clearly wouldn’t budge without reason. “God, you’re really fucking annoying when you want to be, anyone ever told you that? _Fine_. I’ve got a hematoma on a not-so-pleasant part of my body, all right?”

Steve frowned. “Just a hematoma? You can’t really be sure—”

“I’m sure. JARVIS did a full body-scan, okay?”

The frown deepened as Steve’s eyes moved across Tony’s body. “If it’s not your leg…”

Tony huffed, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile. “You’re really gonna make me say it. One of the damn bots smashed my crotch plate, all right? He kicked me in the balls. They’re swollen, they hurt like a bitch, but it’s gonna be fine.”

There was a long silence.

Then, Steve ducked his head to smother a grin. “If… if the swelling doesn’t, uh, go downby the end of tomorrow—”

“I’ll consult a doctor. Yes. I’m a grown man. Not like I’d risk my _balls_ , Steve.”

Steve huffed a laugh, obviously satisfied, now that he’d stripped Tony of all dignity. “Good, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Sure,” Tony said with a curt nod, then bit his lower lips and added, voice turning softer, “Goodnight, Steve.”

Steve paused at that, gracing him with a surprised glance that quickly transformed into a warm smile. “G’night, Tony.”

Steve turned and walked away then, the shadow of that amused smile still tainting his face. And that was a good thing, since Tony’s disobedient hands were seconds away from doing something stupid like grab for Steve and beg him to kiss it and make it better. Best to put these lusty thoughts out of his mind right away. At least until his balls didn’t feel like falling off any second and he was ready to uselessly torture himself with wanting again.


	3. phase three = {‘performance and control’}

****description** = {‘the project manager will compare project status and progress to the actual plan. During this phase, the project manager may need to adjust priorities to keep the project on track.’}**

 

 

There was some reassurance that despite its recent opportunities, the world had failed to successfully go through an apocalypse; that Tony was standing alongside the only people in existence that had a so much as a chance of doing any good while facing the robot-legions of oncoming hell.

Some reassurance, but not much.

By now, they’d been fighting for hours and the sun had long set. There were more robots coming at them each minute, and whatever their game was, well… this seemed to be the great finale.

“Right then,” Tony announced over the comm lines, pointing at Thor. “How about you take the hundred in the middle. I’ll get me the hundred on the left. Hulk can smash the bots on the right. Cap and the wonder twins fight whatever comes through. Afterwards, lets meet up at this new Mexican place on 5th.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve said with a tired little smile, tossing him a brief glance. The same look that reflected the dreaded innate knowledge that there might not _be_ an afterwards. That this was probably it. One last hurrah before the lights went out.

And he hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell Steve how much he loved him.

Bruce nodded grimly and hunched forward, as his skin already started to turn green. “I’ll meet you up at the lab after this is over.”

Tony nodded. “Good.”

“After this is over,” Clint mumbled. “I’m definitely taking you up on that vacation time, Stark.”

“I will show them the true meaning of suffering,” Thor supplied, the faintest hint of hate dancing across his face from the pale glow of nearby street-lights to offset poignant reflection. He raised Mjolnir, and the lightning started to cackle around it. “They will bleed as we have bled, but we will make their pain a thousand times worse.” He was otherwise as staunch as ever, though he looked to be more than ready to put up a hell of a good fight. And that was just fine with Tony.

Thor was one scary motherfucker when he wanted to be.

From next to Tony, Clint made a small noise of complaint. He was staggering still, holding his already bleeding leg while attempting to maintain balance on the same note. At that, one couldn’t help but respect the guy. While Tony knew he was likely counting minutes until the lights went out for good, there was no way he would go down without putting all he had in the fight.

And then there was nothing to do but jump into the thick of it. Tony drew in a deep breath as Iron Man’s faceplate slid shut. One last good fight before he called it a night.

“Hop and go, Cap,” Tony said, waiting until Steve had taken a good position on his back, then he flew right into the horde of robots.

There was noise all around them. Almost immediately, Tony felt Steve being yanked off him and into a blackhole of carnage, sucked and jerked in every which direction.

A tugging gasp rose to Tony’s throat, but he couldn’t stop now. He had to keep swinging. He grasped the head of one robot to deliver a good twist while projecting the nearest could-be weapon into the heart of another. He lost sight of the others, but he knew they were still about, and could still hear the shouted screams of the people he had spent the last few months of his life working alongside with. The robots in the middle section no longer circled the air, and that didn’t surprise him. One thing he had to concede about Thor—despite his level of annoyance to bystanders—he got the job done when the job needed getting done.

Still, against Tony’s better judgment, not knowing where his team was didn’t rest well with him. He knew it was imperative to disassociate himself from all things that could distract him, that could serve as weaknesses, but he wanted to reassure himself of their well being.

He shot his way through the masses, taking the direction in which Steve had vanished. He battled the herd of robots off only to have them come back again. One group followed by hundreds more like it. Whatever he dished out at them, it wasn’t fatal. They repaired themselves with ease every time, _all_ the time. They suffered some malfunction, yes, but ultimately reestablish themselves in some form or another. They adapted like it was nothing to them.

It didn’t matter. Tony would fight with every last beat of energy he had. Until the crowds no longer circled him. Or until he was dead.

Then, out of the blue, something changed.

It started right beneath Tony. The ground rumbled slowly, the tremors gaining quick momentum. The impact gave Tony terrible pause, his eyes going wide. The next second, he was thrown against the nearest brick wall. He turned his gaze skyward with a darkened scowl. There was a large beam shooting up into the sky, and it came right out of the sewer tunnel he had been standing next to.

“JARVIS?” he asked.

“I detect several life signs underground, sir.”

“Avengers, I think I found the source,” Tony said, and was met with terrible silence. _Shit_.

Another tremulous quake commanded the ground. Tony fell against the sturdiness of the ground, his head wallowing in misery and sharp shots of pain making their way steadfast across his body. The robots rushed through the air, and if anything, the tremors seizing the ground grew even stronger.

Whatever plan their enemy was pursuing, he was definitely approaching its completion. And all this time, they had been doing it right beneath their feet.

It was just when one of the robots ripped Tony’s faceplate off, he saw Steve fighting his way towards him. The robot pushed his hand on the arc reactor and some sort of pulse vibrated across Tony’s limbs. His eyes went wide and a scream rose to his lips, pain shooting through every cranny that had ever felt the breath of existence.

No. It was too soon. He couldn’t go down like this. Too fucking soon.

The earth was still quaking, giving light to something more thunderous in the distance. Thor, he hoped, but couldn’t be sure. The ground seemed swamped the next instant. Where there had been Hundreds, there were now Thousands. Tony collapsed right on a manhole cover, the suit unmoving around him.

“JARVIS?” he asked.

Nothing. God, these fuckers had EMPs.

Tony applauded himself for thinking ahead and protecting the reactor from all sorts of EMP. Still. The suit was dead weight now, and every breath Tony took tinged his nerves with further abuse. He willed his eyes shut for a few blessed seconds. He wanted to call out for Steve, but dared not for the world. Steve couldn’t stop to help him.

And Tony couldn’t sit here from the sidelines. It would get him killed—and all he had fought for would remain in vain. He balled his hand into a fist and pressed the fingertips against the inner walls of the gauntlet. First both thumbs, then the middle finger, and again the thumbs.

The suit opened up immediately, and Tony rolled to the side, hiding underneath it. He pressed another finger into the edge of the suit’s back plate, extracting a gun from the lid that opened up.

“Avengers,” he called again, pressing his lips against the suit’s earpiece. There was nothing but white static. “The suit’s down. There’s movement in the sewers. I’ll go in and find a way to stop this.”

There was a flash at that. Sudden. Short. Steve’s shield shot past Tony and decapitated two robots that had flown towards Tony.

“Steve,” Tony called wondrously. His helmet was off, his face half-smeared with blood. There was a hunch in his stance, but otherwise, he seemed to be fine.

“Let’s go,” Steve said shortly. “We won’t be holding up much longer.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sewer tunnel was pitch black, and somewhere deeper in the darkness a water pipe leaked at a steady rhythm. Tony’s feet squelched in the low water and he congratulated himself for making the undersuit waterproof and bacterial-resistant.

“I can hear movement further down,” Steve said quietly. “And more bots.”

Tony almost gave a yelp when he felt Steve’s hand slip into his, his fingers giving Tony’s a light squeeze. Although he couldn’t see him, he felt Steve stepping closer to him, and then his breath against his ear.

“Hold on to my hand,” Steve ordered. “I see better in the dark than you.”

Silence fell between them for a moment before Steve spoke again. “We’re getting close,” he said.

Tony’s eyes were drawn to the black tunnel ahead. He didn’t see much of anything. “We are?”

“The undersuit you’re wearing, how much damage can it take?”

Tony sighed. “Enough.”

“Tony, come on—”

“Do we really have to get into this now? We don’t know who’s down there. They might hear us talking.”

“If they can hear us, they already know we’re inside,” Steve pointed out. “I need to know, so we might as well talk about this now. And since you don’t talk to me, I have to ask.”

Tony tensed, his hand pressing down on Steve’s with a little more force than necessary. “It stops smaller caliber bullets.”

“What about beams?”

“With enough force, anything goes through.” Tony’s voice had become harder with annoyed impatience. “The undersuit is supposed to protect me from the suit, nothing more.”

Even in the dark, Tony could see Steve roll his eyes. “Excuse me for asking. I’m just trying to protect you… and maybe find out what’s going on with you while I’m at it.”

Tony yanked his hand back, leaving Steve staggering a little in the darkness. “Nothing’s going on with me. Stop asking stupid questions.”

On instinct, Steve reached out, grabbing Tony by his shoulders. “Then why are you acting so weird around me?”

Silence. Thick, uncomfortable, choking silence.

Tony shifted in the darkness, then cleared his voice almost inaudibly. “I’m not acting… weird.” He almost spat the last word out as though it was venom on his tongue. “We don’t have time for this.”

Steve was obviously about to protest when his hand suddenly clamped down over Tony’s mouth, blocking half his airway.

A light had suddenly appeared around the next corner of the tunnel. At first, it was only a vague glow in the darkness, then it took the form of a door opening atop a short staircase. Alarmed screeches poured out of some sort of maintenance area beyond.

And as they approached, Tony saw a figure behind the doorway. He still couldn’t make out who or what it was; he only saw a dark shadow in some sort of hooded robe. It blended nicely in the midst of the room’s shadows, as it knelt in front of some high-tech metallic barrel. Its movements looked frantic, like it was in panic and—

“What the—” Tony mouthed, as a surge went through the barrel. Immediately, Steve dragged him off to the side and into a nearby emergency phone booth and pressed him against the wall, away from the small window, shielding Tony’s body with his. It was a tight fit between the two of them, especially with Steve’s shield on his back, and Tony closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing to not give them away. Steve’s eyes were wide while he stared over his shoulder, pressing a finger against his lips, instructing Tony to be quiet. And as if on cue, a few dozens of robots floated calmly through the darkness. They hovered in the air, flying towards where the tunnel’s exit was.

Steve kept shifting uncomfortably, and eventually edged one of his knees between Tony’s legs to get a better stand. One hand was pressed against the wall, the other positioned somewhere at Tony’s hips.

God, up close, Tony could smell the scent of Steve’s skin, a mixture of sweat and ashes, hints of soap and aftershave and something unique to him Tony had always found enticing. He felt the heat of Steve’s body through his clothing, felt every single muscle strain beneath the uniform.

Definitely the wrong time to get a boner, Tony thought.

He gripped Steve’s arms tighter, wondering if Steve could feel his heart as it suddenly began to slam against his breastbone. If he did, he gave no indication. Tony tried to suck in a deep breath, pressing even more into Steve in the process. On its own accord, one of his knees went up between Steve’s, and Steve drew in a shuddering breath, his head thumping against the wall behind him.

They couldn’t talk, obviously—the robots were still passing the booth, blocking their way—and Tony wouldn’t have known what to say, anyways. He just stared at Steve, and Steve stared back.

That was, until Steve mouthed two words that looked a lot like ‘fuck it’ and pressed his mouth to Tony’s lips.

And Tony, well, he was irrevocably lost. Utterly lost. Steve fingers were now lacing through his sweaty hair, his big hands framing Tony’s face as his mouth warred with Tony’s. Steve tasted so good, and Tony couldn’t get enough of him. Nor could he help the soundless whimper that tickled his throat when he sucked Steve’s tongue into his mouth.

And then, Steve broke away to collect his breath, resting his brow against Tony’s, then dove in for seconds. His kisses were addictive. The simple intimacy of kissing him was worth so much more than he ever could’ve imagined.

Tony missed Steve’s mouth the second it left his, but he wasn’t about to complain. He’d stolen a taste and Steve was still in his arms. He wasn’t protesting or squirming to get away, quite the opposite, actually, and Tony held him as long as he let him. Their gazes were locked for long seconds, each of them fighting for breath.

“Wow,” Tony mouthed eventually. The clouds had parted and suddenly he felt as light as air. “I feel like I should say more, but… wow.”

Steve looked a little dazed, and leaned in to press his mouth right next to Tony’s ear. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Tony rubbed his cheek against Steve’s, whispering, “This?”

“Kiss you,” he replied softly, his lips grazing Tony’s jaw-line. “Hold you.”

Tony shook his head, frowning at nothing. “You did? Wait, what do you mean with ‘how long’?”

“Kind of since Christmas,” Steve admitted, leaning back to smile at him.

Tony’s eyes must’ve been wide as saucers. “ _Christmas?_ You mean—”

And that, of course, was when the hooded figure in the doorway let out the most ear-piercing shriek of alarm Tony had ever heard.

Steve’s head whipped backwards, and they both made a feeble attempt to shield their ears from the horrible sound. It echoed off the walls, vibrating in Tony’s head, making his teeth ache.

The robots were gone now, but there were other alarmed sounds that rose from the direction the light had come from. Then, there were footsteps on concrete.

Tony’s ears were still ringing when Steve was suddenly yanked away from him and into the darkness of the corridor. His eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the complete lack of light, and so Steve simply vanished from his sight. He heard him curse violently, though, then a shuffle of feet followed by the sound of his shield connecting with flesh.

“Steve!” Tony called out to him, getting into a fighting stance and holding the gun in front of him.

Somewhere to his left, he saw Steve’s shield hit the tunnel wall twice, sparks flying everywhere. The thing he’d been fighting let out a loud shriek before it fell lifeless to the ground.

“One down,” Steve’s voice sounded almost happy.

“Two to go,” Tony said numbly as he stared in front of them. On top of the stairway, there seemed to be two more hooded figures blocking the path to where the light illuminated the maintenance area beyond. They’d come to stand right in the doorway, forming a line, ready to attack.

“We need to get inside that room,” Tony said. He could hardly see anything, and only made out the shadow of one of the figures rushing toward him when it was already too late. It drove him right to the ground. Air escaped his lungs at the impact. Tony sucked in a breath and with it the smell of the thing’s foul breath. His stomach lurched and a wave of nausea flooded his already hampered senses.

Up close, Tony could see flaps of grey, reptilian skin, and a greenish liquid oozing from the pores on its mangled face. Its eyes were small and yellow, its mouth lined with a row of sharp teeth caked with a brown substance Tony really didn’t care to investigate closer. Sour breath puffed through its snout, and Tony’s primary reaction was to put as much space between them as possible.

He couldn’t shake the thought that he’d _seen_ that thing before… only this one was in really bad shape, like it’d been rotting down here for a while and—

“Tony!” Steve called, and a second later the weight of the creature was taken off him. Without hesitation, Steve crushed the edge of his shield into the thing’s side, jerked it out and hit it again. First, the shield found its neck. After that, Steve kicked it hard in its wounded side, swinging the shield high above his head before bringing to down again. A few swings and the creature was scattered in several pieces.

“That was easy,” Steve said with heavy breaths and glanced confusedly at the dead body. Then, he looked up at Tony. “You okay?”

“I’ll probably puke my guts out after this is over, but, yeah, I’m okay,” Tony managed. Steve’s hand took hold of his arm and pulled him to his feet again. Next to Steve’s feet lay another dead body.

“You realize what this is?” Tony asked, poking his feet at the creature’s head.

“Realize? What…” Steve’s gaze travelled downwards, and his shoulders went rigid. “Oh God, is that—”

“Chitauri, yes. Seems like a few of them survived the battle,” Tony supplied. “Probably went into hiding down here.”

Steve frowned quizzically. “Didn’t you say they worked like a hive-mind? And you destroyed their Mother Ship.”

“Maybe these ones broke the link beforehand, I really don’t know.”

Steve sighed. “And now they, what… summoned in an army of their own?”

“Maybe,” Tony said, and exhaled a heavy breath. He didn’t like any of this. “Just a wild guess, but… I think the light back there might be a new portal.”

As if on cue, the whole tunnel was illuminated in a brilliant flash of color, light spiraling upwards as the earth beneath it began to tremble. A symphony of a thousand shrieks molding into one burst through the air. Symbols carved into the floor sparked to life—a pillar of pure energy burst through another manhole and broke clear into the night sky. The blaze was blinding, blinking the dark away with nothing but pure white.

Tony couldn’t see. Everything faded away and he couldn’t see. “What are they _doing_?”

“Don’t know,” Steve said. “Don’t really care. We gotta stop them.”

And then, more Chitauri were on them, tackling them both to the floor. One of the creatures’ cloaks shrouded Tony’s head somehow, taking away the rest of his vision, filling his nose with that foul stench again.

“Ugh, come on,” Tony moaned and tried to struggle his way out of the heavy cloth, legs kicking and arms flailing. Fingers closed around his throat, razor-like fingernails digging into his neck, nearly crushing his windpipe. His vision started to blur with the lack of oxygen, even darker spots dancing in front of his eyes. He lunged out with one arm, gun in hand, trying to fight off unconsciousness. He greedily gasped for air when the hand let him free again.

Steve kept pummeling away at the thing. Something howled, the flashes of light coming in even faster surges.

“Tony, whatever they’re doing, they’re doing it now!”

The entire tunnel now shook with a violent tremor. The wolfish howl faded away beneath the high-pitched screams of the robots outside. Suddenly, Steve was yanked forward, crashing down to the floor. Something had taken a hold of his foot, pulling him in the direction of the portal so fast Tony could do nothing but stare after his retreating form.

“Steve!” Tony shouted, and made to run after him.

The Chitauri’s hand was clutching around Steve’s ankle, digging his claws right through the leather of his boot until it came away red. Steve screamed in pain, trying to pull his foot out of the thing’s grip. “Shoot it! NOW!” He was dragged towards the end of the tunnel, and somehow, Tony knew, if the figure would get Steve near that portal, he would likely not see him ever again.

Tony fumbled with the gun. He had decent aim, but he couldn’t get a clear shot. Not like this. If he waited another second, though, Steve would be lost. He aimed for the Chitauri, pulling the trigger three times.

It howled in agony, and the claw withdrew from Steve’s foot. Steve fell to the floor with a thud, only inches away from the portal, letting out a strangled groan, and next to him, the Chitauri froze, before its body was pulled into the portal, where it exploded.

As quickly as it had started, it ended. The rest of the Chitauri’s body fell on the barrel, breaking its lid, and a second later, the world fell still again.

Dark. Silent. Secure.

It took several seconds for Tony’s ears to stop ringing and even longer for his eyes to adjust once more. His skin pricked and his body hummed, and with every twist of his head, he expected another wail. Another scream. The full pressure of evils unknown to this world still scratching at the air around them. Everything fell quiet. Fell still. Everything just fell.

“Steve,” Tony breathed out. He knelt down next to him, inspecting his body. Steve’s foot looked bad, several chunks of skin missing. And as if that wasn’t enough, his other thigh had been hit by one of the bullets, a steady trickle of blood making its way to the ground.

God, he had done that. He had _shot_ Steve.

The tunnel was now heavy with silence except the deep, painful gasps that reverberated through Steve’s chest. His eyes were clenched tight, and he was grasping the rubble beneath him as though to anchor himself to an earthly plane.

“Steve,” Tony said. He had to think fast. Losing blood at this rate was dangerous even for someone like Steve, but how could he stop the bleeding?

Steve’s eyes visibly struggled for sight. It took him a few seconds to find Tony, but he smiled when he did. “Good job.”

“Stay awake,” Tony said softly, tugging at the collar of his uniform. “You’re gonna be fine.”

A long minute passed, Steve’s gaze burning his. His face clouded with pain as he moved to sit up, his arms trembling with effort until Tony neared and helped him.

“’s not so bad,” Steve murmured.

“You’re bleeding all over the floor!” Tony snapped, exhausted anger boiling up inside him. He reached for the replacement comm clipped to Steve’s belt, popping the earpiece into his ear, pushing a button. “Avengers, this is Iron Man. We need evac. Cap’s wounded. Anyone copy? Steve’s wounded.”

“It’s just a scrape,” Steve protested, sitting up.

“You can’t possibly be serious. Avengers, please someone answer me.”

For an agonizing minute, there was still only white static, and Tony was about to crush the earpiece on the floor, when _finally_ —Natasha’s voice came through.

“What’s your location?”

A relieved sob left Tony’s lips that he’d definitely deny later. “Sewer tunnels, 17th Street at 5th Avenue. South slope,” Tony said. “We need evac ASAP. And bring a med kit. Something to stop heavy bleeding.” He frowned, looking at the growing puddle of blood underneath Steve’s thigh. “Fuck. _And a medic._ God, Steve…”

Steve tried to get to his feet but his right foot failed him completely. He winced in pain and plopped down on his butt again.

“Tony, listen to me,” Natasha’s voice rang sharp yet deceptively calm in Tony’s ear. “There’s a tourniquet in Steve’s utility belt. Use it before he tries to move.”

Well, too late for that, Tony thought, looking at Steve’s pale face for a second before reaching to do as Natasha instructed. How had he forgotten about the stupid utility belt? His hands shook as he extracted the dense pack and unwound it.

The tunnel started to tremble.

“No,” Tony breathed out, looking at the dust falling down from the ceiling. “Come on, seriously? Shit, _fuck_ , shit.” He moved frantically, going over the technical basics of applying the thing in his head. It took a few flailing motions until the bleeding finally slowed to a drizzle, then stopped.

“You need to go,” Steve said into the heavy silence that fell then, his voice very serious.

“I won’t leave you behind.”

“Tony, listen,” Natasha called. “There’s no coming through here. JARVIS says the tunnels on 5th are about to cave any minute. You need to get Steve out of there.”

Tony groaned, looking down at Steve’s body. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

A pause.

“You need to carry him.”

Tony’s fingers tightened around Steve’s—anchoring him as his free hand sought the soft locks of blonde hair that crowded his bloodied brow. “I’m not sure I can,” he admitted quietly.

Natasha’s firm voice echoed over the comm. “You _can_. And you will. You need to take his left arm over your right shoulder, then position yourself right in front of him, your neck should be pressing against the lower part of his abdomen.”

Debris was falling down around them. Tony reached for Steve’s upper torso, using every ounce of strength to pull him to his feet. He pulled his left arm around his shoulders. Then, he bent down and used all of his strength to push Steve upwards and on his back. His legs gave out on him on mid-lift, though, and he had to sit Steve back down.

Steve groaned in pain and attempted to sit up. Attempted and failed.

“Steve…”

“It’s okay,” Steve whispered with a pained smile. He leaned up, slowly skimming a finger across Tony’s cheek. “ _Go_. I’m good here. Just—you need to go. Things have a way of working out.”

Tony shook his head and nearly choked on a sob. He felt Steve’s pain as though it was his own. “No,” he whispered brokenly. “I don’t think they do.”

“I always wait too long,” Steve said with palpable desperation. “Why did I think giving you space was a good idea? I’ve meant to tell you before… _long_ before.”

“Tell me what?” Tony asked, voice barely audible even to his ears.

Steve had the audacity to roll his eyes at him. “What d’ya think, genius?” he slurred. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long…”

Distantly, Tony heard Natasha’s little awed sigh through the comms. He would’ve made fun of her for that, though the sentiment was more than appreciated. Heartless assassin—as if.

Also, he was busy staring at Steve with what was probably a fifty-fifty mixture of pure astonishment and utter glee.

_He loves me._

At that, Tony started laughing.

“What?” Steve asked with a broken tone.

“Sorry… just, don’t you see the irony? I pimped my suit so much… making sure I could carry you in every goddamn situation, and now we’re gonna die here because I never learned how to do that stupid lift.”

The comm came to life again. “Just don’t lean forward without thrusting your legs up first,” Natasha said, effectively interrupting the very singular train of thought Tony’s mind had been about to board. “You need to lift him with your legs.”

Tony nodded eventually, taking stand for a second try. Fuck physics. He could do this.

“Tony…” Steve warned with a low voice. “It’s okay… you need to—”

“I love you, too,” Tony told him fiercely. “So go on, tell me again that I should leave you here to die.”

The surprise flashing across Steve’s face at that nearly knocked Tony off his feet. “Say it again,” he said softly, _pleadingly_ , his voice weighed with something heavy—something Tony couldn’t identify.

“I love you,” Tony repeated and closed his eyes. There. A weight lifted. Despite what was going to happen now, it was out there. He didn’t have to hide anymore. The words felt familiar, too. Felt right. He’d loved Steve when he hadn’t even known it. And he loved him now, with his eyes wide open.

The look Steve gave him at that would remain with Tony forever. There was astonishment blanketing his face, his wide eyes drinking Tony in before falling into the softest warmth. It touched Steve’s cheeks, then colored every inch of his skin.

No one had ever looked at Tony like that.

_No one._

After a moment, though, Steve gave a curt nod. Together, they stripped him of some of his expendable gear and some removable parts of his uniform, before Steve tried to take up a position that’d make the lift a bit easier for Tony.

To say carrying Steve was easy would be a lie. As was to say it didn’t take another five minutes for Tony to actually find his footing and bring Steve’s weight onto his shoulders.

In the end though, Tony managed.

He had to.

Steve was not easy to balance on his shoulders, what with the shield still strapped on his back. Debris kept falling down around them, and as Tony made his way through the sewer tunnel, it started to really cave in. He walked as fast as he could with Steve on his back, but before they stepped outside, the tunnel came tumbling down all around them, and if it hadn’t been for a last surge of energy, a last will to not _die_ , now that he had Steve, they’d been crushed dead.

Tony started to run and he jumped right past a huge chunk of stone that’d wanted to bury them beneath it. Once outside, he sat Steve down on the curb, falling down next to him. Around them, hundreds— _thousands_ —of dead robots were lying on the streets.

“Another hive-mind,” Tony mumbled distractedly, before he looked back up at Steve. “You holding up?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Steve said on a little relieved breath. “As long as my foot is attached to my body, the serum’s gonna fix it in no time.”

Tony glanced down to where the Chitauri’s talons had ripped right through Steve’s boot. Blood still pooled on the sidewalk, but there was already pink flesh shining through the torn leather.

“All right,” he conceded. “Two feet accounted for. Sorry I shot you.”

Steve shrugged but winced again when he moved his body. He pressed a hand over the oozing wound. “You didn’t see anything. We both knew it could happen.”

Tires screeched somewhere nearby, and a yellow van rounded the corner, skidding a little. It came to a halt not two feet away from Tony. Natasha poked her head out, eyes gleaming in the light of the streetlamp. “Someone told me you needed a ride?” she drawled and jumped out of the driver’s seat.

Before she moved to help Steve walk to the van, she gave Tony a little pet on the shoulder.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Steve visibly twitched as Tony approached the cot, holding his shoulder with a grimace.

“What—”

“Shhh.” Tony sat down on the edge and leaned over, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. He was still surprised at how soft his hair was. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“What happened?”

“You’ve been out for a few hours. You lost a lot of blood.” He smiled softly, returning to his side with a glass of water. Steve took it from his grasp, guzzling it down as though his body suddenly depended on it. “Good?”

“Mmm,” Steve murmured. “More?”

Tony nodded and returned with a refill. Steve drank as though there was no bearing end. So much that dribbles rolled down his chin. And somewhere in the middle of it all, the lasting strands of the final battle seemed to come soaring back, and Steve threw his head back with a gasp. “The Chitauri—”

Tony’s eyes were calm and betrayed nothing. “All dead,” he confirmed. “We checked every sewer, JARVIS did another scan, they’re gone. The bots are gone, as well.”

Steve was quiet for a minute before he nodded. “So we won?”

There was a kind, respectful smile at that. “Yeah. Yeah, we won.”

“Did everyone make it? Nat and Clint and Bruce… Thor… where are they?”

“At home. They were around all day, but I sent them home to sleep the battle off. Clint’s a bit worse for wear but he’ll recover, too.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully.

“Everyone’s alive,” Tony assured him. “Recuperating.”

“Good. That’s… good. So it’s really over?”

Tony laughed, shaking his head in amazement. “It is. And amazingly enough, we’re all still here.”

“What happened?” Steve asked. “The robots, I mean…”

“Bruce and I are still figuring it out. The barrel… the, uh, thing beneath the portal?” Tony asked, and waited for Steve to nod before he went on. “Don’t know where they got it from, it’s not Chitauri tech, so… they probably didn’t know what they were doing. We guess they tried to contact their home or something, and instead brought the robots here.”

Steve frowned. “So they didn’t summon them, it was an accident.”

“That’s my elaborate guess, yes. And every time they tried, another surge came through.”

Steve blinked sleepily. He nodded, then nodded some more. After a moment, though, he looked back up at Tony, like he’d just remembered something important. “You carried me.”

“I did.”

“Good for you,” Steve said with a little snort. Then, he met Tony’s eyes and smiled knowingly, making Tony feel more vulnerable than he had in the whole of his existence. “You also told me you love me.”

Tony took a deep breath, nodding calmly. “Yeah… that sounds like one of those crazy things I’d do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A day later, Steve was released from medical. No words were exchanged over the long drive back to the tower, but as soon as they arrived, Tony led Steve into the elevator and wordlessly pushed the button leading to his penthouse. During the ride, Tony felt the slow sizzle of Steve’s eyes every few seconds as he alternated between staring at him and staring at the floor numbers on the display. Tony never glanced back at him. When the door opened, though, he moved forward until he was at Steve’s side, wrapping a free arm around his waist. “How about we get you in the shower?” He’d never noticed how strange his voice sounded after a lengthy silence.

Steve glanced up with a grateful smile. His eyes were bright and awake. “Sounds good.”

“Great. Let’s go,” Tony said softly, ignoring the naked longing in his chest. This wasn’t about sex, he told himself. He was just trying to be kind. Just trying to repay some of the sizeable debt he owed Steve for everything that had happened.

The second they set foot on the bathroom tiles, Steve’s self-assuredness all but evaporated. Instead, he was staring at Tony like he might vanish if he dared blink, as though it was just setting in that he was in the intimate quarters of his home.

Tony pursed his lips and placed Steve’s crutches on the ground, nearing the notably nervous super-soldier with a small smile. “You okay?”

He nodded gently. “Yeah. Just a bit nervous, I guess.”

“I’m here because I want to be.”

A long sigh shuddered through Steve’s lips. “I know.”

“And right now, I want you to feel better.”

Tony led Steve to the shower, then paused and bit his lower lip. Logically, he knew that a shower demanded complete nudity, but he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to deal with Steve’s nakedness. And the prospect of getting what he’d desired simultaneously excited him and scared him shitless.

“I’m, um…” He cast a pointed glance to Steve’s jeans. “We should… strip you. Shower, you know.”

Steve released a low chuckle, resting his back against the outer wall of the shower. “Yeah, that’s tough.”

Tony rolled his eyes and stepped forward, grabbing the waistband of Steve’s jeans with new determination. “Funny. You’re such a funny guy.”

“What can I say. I live to entertain…” Steve waggled his brows suggestively, though he looked less seductive and more pained. Tony’s suspicions were confirmed a second later when Steve winced and grabbed his arm to maintain balance, his beautiful features coloring with frustration. “Christ, I really hate this.”

“This?”

Steve sighed, his grip on Tony tightening. “Feeling so useless. I almost forgot what it felt like when my wounds haven’t healed overnight. And now—”

“Now you’re healing. It’s okay not to be up and running after twenty-four hours, Steve, even for a super-soldier.”

Carefully, he stripped Steve’s pants down his legs, doing his best to ignore the way his dick bobbed against his stomach. He only took a second to swell with pride that he could affect Steve like this; that he wanted him now, even when he was in pain. Tony refused to appraise his length, or look directly at it. He didn’t want to know how big he was; didn’t want anything to fuel his fantasies before he could actually get what he wanted.

While he was crouching down, he struggled to unlace Steve’s shoes. After a few awkward seconds, he clamored inelegantly to his feet again and held onto Steve’s shoulders while Steve stepped out of both his boots and the pooled denim.

“I came so close to losing you,” Tony murmured honestly, as he helped Steve out of his shirt. His eyes dropped with slow reluctance to Steve’s chest and _God_. Reflexively, he reached up to caress a prominent bruise on his left pectoral, and flinched when Steve flinched. “Sorry.”

“’S’all right. Jus’ a bit worse for wear.”

Tony forced a smile. “You’ll feel better once all that hospital stink is off of you,” he said. Then, he pulled off his own shirt, and on a low exhale, started to wiggle out of his jeans and briefs, chucking off his shoes in the process, before he determinedly walked Steve backward until they were both under the shower head. Gently, he pushed down on Steve’s shoulder until he got his drift and made to sit down on the shower’s ledge.

“No towel this time,” Steve said with a low smile, as he looked Tony up and down, clearly a lot less modest about the whole situation.

“No,” Tony conceded, reaching up to dislodge the showerhead from the mainline. “You mind?”

Steve snorted. “Do I look like I mind?”

Tony quirked a grin, jumping a bit when the water hit them.

Steve’s eyes closed as he let the water spray fall down on his face. Instantly, Tony’s mouth ran dry and his brain short-circuited. _Guh_. Honestly, there ought to be laws against looking that good. Tony pressed his thighs together, doing his level best to ignore the way his own cock was now standing up and proud between them.

Whatever. He hadn’t really expected to make it through a shower session with a naked Steve without a boner.

“Let me wash your hair,“ Tony murmured as he ran his fingers through Steve’s blonde strands.

The shower seemed endless. He scrubbed Steve thoroughly—and when he tacitly placed the shower gel in Steve’s hands to finish the job between his legs, Steve took it with a nod of understanding and a little amused smile.

“Trying to be good here,” Tony said with a light flush he knew had crept up on his cheeks.

“Sure,” Steve said on a snort. He sure as hell wasn’t being shy as he soaped his cock, and Tony didn’t complain. The idea of being so close to Steve while he touched himself was both thrilling and near unbearable.

Tony released a deep breath and shivered. “You’re not exactly making it easy.”

“I’m not trying to,” Steve said with an amused tone. “There. Done.”

“Good,” Tony said.

Ten minutes later, he was helping Steve over to his bed. He brought a towel with him and went to work drying him off, ignoring the heat of Steve’s gaze as best he could. Ignoring _everything_ as best he could—which wasn’t much.

Steve’s erection hadn’t abated. He still wanted Tony.

“You, um,” Tony started, glancing up at Steve. And _Jesus_ , what a sight he made. Sprawled out on Tony’s king-sized bed, like he didn’t have one worry in the world. Legs slightly parted, one arm linked behind his head as he glanced down at Tony with half-lidded eyes.

“I, um?” Steve asked with a little smile.

“I know you’re not exactly in good shape, but… you’re looking pretty comfortable there and I could…” He trailed off again, and instead waved awkwardly towards Steve’s erection. _God_. Never in his life, Tony had been _this_ bashful, _this_ nervous about asking for what he wanted. When it came to sex, he was usually straightforward about it, self-assured. He hadn’t been turned down often in his life, and certainly not by people who cared about him.

“Let me blow you,” Tony whispered, and cautiously laid a hand on Steve’s thigh, brushing his thumb over Steve’s length.

Steve met Tony’s eyes heatedly, holding his gaze as he took a long, pointed breath. Then, he nodded.

“Okay,” Tony said, his knees edging back onto the bed. “Be still for me.”

Steve lifted his head and arched a brow. “I’m not sure I can.”

Tony grinned and poked out his tongue. “Well,” he replied, his eyes following the line of the soft blonde hair trailing down from Steve’s belly-button. “Try.”

Steve rocked hard with the weight of unneeded gasps. The light in his eyes was something Tony hadn’t seen often—something that had been practically nonexistent since Tony had distanced himself from Steve. He looked happy. _Really_ happy. The pain and the heartache which had before been etched in his face were nowhere to be seen. There was nothing but warmth and wonder. Nothing but euphoria at its highest measure.

Tony smiled and raised his head to Steve’s face, unable to keep from stealing a kiss from his lips. One kiss inevitably became two, then three, and before he allowed Steve to distract him from his objective, he broke away from his mouth and moved his lips downwards.

A long, pleasured sigh rumbled through Steve’s throat as his body undulated under him. “Christ,” he murmured. “Tony…”

Tony’s right hand slipped across Steve’s chest until he was playing with one of his nipples.  Steve moaned again, his hips thrusting off the bed to little avail.

“Still,” Tony reminded him.

Steve hissed as Tony gave his nipple a little tweak and arched upward again. “You know, that’s rich coming from you. You’re _always_ fidgeting.”

“Well, you can always return the favor later,” Tony said with a wink. His mouth led him southward, suckling every delicious inch of Steve’s skin it stumbled on. There was no more waiting when Tony reached his cock. There was nothing but Steve.

Tony leaned forward, teasing the tender skin between Steve’s cock and his testicles. The tip of his tongue traced the underside of Steve’s cock until his lips had formed seductively around its head. Then he drew him in, cupping his balls with his left hand and wrapping his right around his shaft. The feel of his skin sliding against his tongue, flavored with the heady gasps tearing through Steve’s chest, had him captivated. It took half a second for Steve’s fingers to wind through Tony’s hair, caressing his scalp with loving encouragement as unintelligible adorations rolled off his lips.

Tony loved the way Steve occupied his mouth. Loved wrapping his tongue around him, exploring every vein; loving how he could elicit such reactions by doing so little.

“God, your mouth,” Steve gasped, hips lifting, determinately slipping deeper inside him. “Tony—”

Tony began pumping him slowly with his hand as his mouth worked Steve as far into his throat as physics would allow. He kept his eyes locked on Steve; resolute that he’d see what Tony felt—hoping his feelings were as obvious as Steve’s. He wanted his eyes to tell Steve _everything_.

Steve’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Of course you’d be good at this,” he mumbled with a breathless laugh.

“Why, because I run my mouth whenever I feel like it?”

“I was going to go with ‘you have a sharp tongue’, but sure, that works, too.”

Tony chuckled as he slowly descended on Steve’s length, which only made Steve moan harder. He drew him in until his head brushed the soft wall of Tony’s throat and put his gag reflex to the test. Deep-throating wasn’t something Tony had much experience with, but he’d never backed away from a challenge. Developing a rhythm, Tony slipped his mouth up and down his length, and further down still, caressing his balls every time the head of Steve’s dick hit his throat and squeezing his base every time he left his mouth.

“Oh, shit…” Steve’s eyes were wide and frantic. No one had ever panted for him like Steve did. Not any of the men Tony had ever invited into his bed. He clamored for oxygen like a man suffocated, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest mesmerizing Tony, thrilling him, making him hard enough to drown them both. His dick throbbed and his skin tingled; and he wanted to be inside Steve like he’d wanted nothing before.

“I’m gonna—”

Tony pulled off, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cock, before diving back in. “Don’t hold back.”

Steve took a deep trembling breath, leaning back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Christ…” he mumbled, like he couldn’t believe Tony.

Tony sucked him hard and held him at the back of his throat. And then he swallowed. He swallowed again and again, caressing Steve with everything his mouth had to give. He watched him dissolve from one extreme to the next, while Steve’s shaking fingers dug into the bedsheet at his side. Tony drew his lips down his length, his tongue swirling around him, licking at his sensitive slit and sucking hungrily. That was it. He felt Steve’s balls tense in his hand, and knew without needing further warning that he had pushed him to the edge.

Steve’s entire body tensed beneath his fingers, and then he was coming hard, his hips shoving up and into Tony’s mouth of their own volition. He spilled himself down Tony’s throat with a loud moan, the grip on the sheets tightening.

Tony’s mouth continued to love him until he felt Steve slump. His eyes trailed upward and clashed with his, his cock sliding from Tony’s lips with a wet plop.

Steve was panting heavily, one arm draped over his eyes. God. That man was a _god_ ; a god who’d fallen into his arms. And he was Tony’s.

Now that he’d touched Steve, there was no letting go.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was a strange sensation—the minutes of morning while snuggled in someone’s arms for the very first time.

Tony blinked numbly against the stretch of reluctant wake. His head was pillowed softly on a chest that was a tad too hot but far from unpleasant. His arms were both outstretched, wound around the body that lay beneath him. The feeling encompassing him this second was different but spectacular: never had he felt so thoroughly secure. And other things were coming into perspective: A big hand was at his back, stroking absent and subconscious caresses into his skin;  his bare legs were straddling one foreign thigh with intimacy.

Tony blinked, eventually looking up at the man beneath him.

Yup. He was really curled in the embrace of one Steve Rogers. Steve, who was holding Tony with such delicacy, like he could break any second. It was hard to think anything else aside for ‘This feels awfully good’.

Especially with the swell of Steve’s desire that tented the blankets and nudged Tony’s hip.

Tony grinned. He didn’t know what, but something about Steve being like this stripped him of all measure of self control. The temptation to reach down and simply take Steve’s dick into his hand while he was still sleeping was egging from a naughty thought to a place of actual contemplation.

Tony licked his lips and looked at Steve’s soft features. It was strange and wonderful in equal parts to be able to look at him up close without the safety of a fight to declare as an excuse. Before Tony could reach a decision, Steve awoke slowly, and the transformation had Tony spellbound. He was peaceful and still one second, then light touched his cheeks and his body began to stir. Steve blinked sleepily and yawned, stretching his broad shoulders. He paused when he encountered Tony’s own erection, hesitated, then offered a soft grin. “Good morning,” he murmured, opening his blue eyes.

Tony snorted in response and his mouth dropped to Steve’s lips, irrevocably drawn there.

“Mmm…” Steve shivered against him, then twisted in his arms, pushing Tony to his back. It was as though his face had kissed the sun for as bright as he smiled at Tony.

“You have a comfy bed,” Steve murmured with soft eyes. “Fella could get used to this.”

Tony smiled up at him. “I’ve grown rather fond of it, too.”

“The bed or the fella?”

Tony huffed a laugh. “Both, clearly.”

“Well, I’m available as long as you need me,” Steve offered, his eyes roaming Tony’s face as though he’d just discovered the secret to the universe.

“You really want this, don’t you?” Tony asked, wondrously, still a little disbelieving.

Steve pursed his lips, giving Tony a crooked smile. “Fishing for compliments, are we?”

Tony shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe.”

“Yeah, I really want this.”

Tony hummed pleasantly, and he couldn’t remember ever having been so happy. Not when he’d been asked on his very first date when he was twelve years old. Not when he’d been asked to the Spring Fling the year that he first attended MIT. Not when Pepper had first kissed him. And now he realized, as hard as it was, he’d never been happy before. Not really. Not when every step he’d taken was overshadowed by his own fear of impending loss.

With Steve, everything was different.

“What are you smiling about?” Steve asked, brushing a tender kiss across Tony’s forehead.

Tony grinned some more and met his dancing gaze. “Probably the same thing you’re smiling about.”

Steve bit his lower lip, chuckling. “You might be right about that.” And the next thing Tony knew, Steve pressed down against him, pushing their erections against another, eliciting a scandalous gasp from Tony’s lips. He drew him in his embrace, his face buried in Tony’s neck. “I love you,” he murmured very softly.

Tony breathed a deep sigh and hugged him tighter. After a moment, he took Steve’s face in his hands and guided his mouth to his own. Instantly, Steve’s tongue invaded Tony’s mouth with enthusiasm, exploring him with sensuality that made Tony’s insides tremble.

Tony’s hands slid possessively to Steve’s ass, and he started to thrust his erection up between them, and groaned when Steve thrust back.

Tony pulled away only when he needed air. “Are you—”

“I’m good,” Steve replied instantly, knowing exactly what Tony was asking.

“And your foot?”

“Is completely fine.”

“So there’s nothing keeping us from—”

Steve shook his head. “No.”

“That’s good,” Tony said, helplessly staring up at Steve. “That’s… God, Steve, I want you so much it’s not even funny.”

“You can have me,” Steve replied instantly. “I’m right here.”

Tony’s eyes widened in astonishment. “You’ll let me—”

Steve honest-to-god _smirked_. “I don’t know. You have lube in this penthouse of yours?”

“Oh God,” Tony said, brain short-circuiting with the image. He inhaled sharply, running a hand down Steve’s thighs. “Are you sure?” His forehead nudged Steve’s amorously. “If you’re not ready…”

“I’ve wanted this for months,” Steve declared with conviction. “Trust me, I’m ready.”

Tony smiled poignantly against a shield of emotion. “When you say months… Did you know how I felt about you?”

Steve offered a touching smile. “Not really. I kinda figured that you were attracted to me. And that you liked me well enough, but—”

“I love you now,” Tony said fiercely.

“I know,” Steve said softly. “Just… I’ve wanted to give you the time, and space, to find out what you wanted to do… and with whom you wanted to do it. I know the break-up with Pepper did a number on you, and I didn’t want to ask too much too soon. I just… I only wanted you to know I’d be there, fighting the good fight with you…”

A long, still beat passed between them.

Steve shrugged. “Nat kept saying I was being an idiot for not just telling you. Too noble for my own good. And I guess she was right.”

Tony snorted. He moved for Steve’s mouth, kissing him with such fervor that he could not mistake his intent. “She usually is. But I appreciate the thought. I really do.”

The light shining through Steve’s eyes was everything Tony would ever need from here on. He’d been around long enough to identify next-to-perfect moments, often mistaking them for the true thing until something else reshaped his vision. Until he had a new appreciation for what perfection truly was.

This? Watching as boundless trust deluged Steve’s eyes—this was perfection.

“All right, then.” Tony cast Steve a wicked smile, as he reached sideways to open the nightstand, his eyes traveling the expanse of Steve’s perfect body all the while. The man truly was a work of beauty.

As soon as he opened the lube, he coated a finger with it.

Steve dropped down on his back next to Tony, casting his finger a curious glance before he bent his knees a little to give Tony better access.

Tony sat up next to Steve, leaning down to kiss him slowly, while he gently ran his fingertip over Steve’s hole. The response was immediate: Steve twitched and gasped into his mouth, his pelvis thrusting slowly against Tony’s finger.

“Okay?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said, arching against him. “A bit weird.”

“It gets better. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

His finger gently pushed inside Steve, while Tony soaked up the sight he presented. Steve’s breathing had become labored in seconds; beads of sweat gathering at his brow, his blue eyes sparkling with heat he’d never seen on him before. Tony’s finger skimmed Steve’s insides, and after another few minutes, he pushed a second one into him.

Steve cried out for real this time. He arched his back, his breathing coming in great gasps, as his hands clenched the bed sheets with such force that he nearly ripped the fabric to shreds.

“God, you’re beautiful like this,” Tony marveled.

“Tony—”

“Gorgeous, even.”

“Stop it.”

Tony grinned, his eyes dropping to Steve’s ass. “Why? You’re so warm and open for me.”

Another jerk of Steve’s hips, this time accompanied by a small whimper. “I meant _stop_ _teasing_.”

Tony nodded and leaned in to press his lips to Steve’s forehead, just as he etched a third finger into him. “I love how you’re panting for me.”

Steve’s eyes squeezed shut, his hips hesitantly moving along with Tony’s fingers. He clung to him with both hands now, his pulse hammering against Tony’s chest in a thunderous cadence.

“Think you’re ready?”

Steve nodded with large eyes. Tony dropped gentle kisses across every inch of skin he could reach as he moved upward, settling right above Steve’s body.

“Condom?” Tony asked, brows perked.

“I can’t get—”

“Diseases, yeah,” Tony said. “I know, just… most people prefer some sort of barrier. Makes it, uh, cleaner.”

Steve quirked a smile, capturing Tony’s mouth in a reassuring slow kiss. His tongue implored; sweeping inside, before he pulled away and turned his attention to Tony’s ear. “I don’t mind,” he said.

“I’m gonna be so good to you,” Tony swore, then sat back a little to coat his dick with more lube. He reached between them, wrapping his fingers around himself, hovering it over Steve’s entrance.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Tony whispered. “Just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said simply. His eyes had fluttered closed at a point. “ _Please_.”

“Steve, look at me,” Tony demanded, jolting Steve’s chin upward.

Steve opened his eyes, until Tony felt himself pierced with an ocean of blue.

“I love you,” he told him.

It was only when he had Steve’s smile that he edged himself inside. A gasp clawed at his throat as Steve clenched around him. Tight. Oh _God_. Tighter and tighter. Steve’s head flew back and his hands searched purchase on Tony’s hips. He raised his knees higher, and Tony felt his strong muscles tremble beneath his fingers.

“Slow,” Steve gasped, his hands gripping him to the point of almost-pain. “Go slow.”

“Of course,” Tony said breathlessly. It was a bit easier said than done, but he reined himself in. They stayed like that for a long moment, until Tony felt Steve relax. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed forward until he was fully inside, buried to the hilt. Again, he didn’t move. It took a minute to gather his bearings anyway. The sensation of being inside Steve had been almost enough to send him over the edge right then and there, and he feared losing all sense of control if he so much as moved.

“Tony,” Steve panted softly, and eventually started to push against Tony’s length until his ass was pressed tightly against the base of Tony’s erection. He released a trembling breath and ran his hands up Tony’s back, then down again to hold his ass as he steadily pushed back and forth against Tony’s cock.

“That’s it,” Tony praised and _good_ _God_ , the sensation was heady. “You feel so good.”

Steve moaned again, his muscles clenching hard around him. He was bringing Tony’s senses to life in ways he didn’t know were possible. Where he had been empty before, he was now complete. Where others had broken him, Steve made him whole. As though he could give his strength simply by willing it so.

“Perfect,” Tony panted, and finally started to move with Steve. Their slow rhythm gained quick momentum as Steve’s confidence swelled. “Oh God. You’re perfect.”

Tony reached behind himself, seizing Steve’s hands that still held his ass and pushed them to the mattress on either side of Steve’s head. Then he leaned forward, shifting his weight on both knees, and began to thrust into Steve with sharp movements.

A muffled sob rumbled from Steve’s lips at that. And as Tony’s thrusts grew deeper, his hips lifted rhythmically to help him along. “I’m close,” he said, almost intelligible, his breaths growing sharper.

Tony lowered his mouth to Steve’s ear as he slipped a hand between them, tightening it around Steve’s cock. “Good. Let me feel it, then,” he whispered, his fingers capturing his leaking head and rubbing him tenderly.

And he did. Steve shook hard, and his body arched up. His muscles tightened and clenched. A hoarse groan tumbled through his throat, and his forehead pressed against Tony’s shoulder as he spilled himself between their bodies.

With a few final thrusts, Tony pushed into Steve and stayed there, finally letting go himself. Heat gave way to peace. Tony had no idea how much time passed before he opened his eyes; before he lifted his head. He found Steve’s head resting against the pillow, his eyes closed, a little dopey smile playing along his lips.

For long minutes, they were still. Tony pulled Steve against him, vowing tacitly to never let him go. Not with the battles they had faced and the obstacles they had conquered.

This was his forever, and he was never going to give it up.

“’m gonna want this every day,” Steve murmured, without a single ounce of irony.

“I love to be of service,” Tony said with a snort. “Although I’m not sure the others will approve of us having endless sexcapades all the time.”

“Mmmm,” Steve hummed, eyes glinting with mischief as he opened them at last. “But it’s okay for the weekends, right?”

Tony smirked. There were no words for how much he loved this man. “And the holidays.”

Steve returned his smile, before he expelled a deep, thoughtful breath. “I think I should check on them. Didn’t see any of them after the battle.”

Tony sighed. He gripped the base of his cock, and slowly pulled out of Steve. “Goodbye, lazy day in bed,” he announced theatrically as he dropped down on the mattress. “It was fun while it lasted.”

Steve snorted, then turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow to look at Tony. “I’d say today is still looking considerably better than yesterday, judging by the start.”

Tony bit his lip, stretching luxuriously. “Well, you do know how to boost a man’s ego.” Then, on a more serious note, he looked up at Steve and reached out to cup his cheek. “Are you happy?”

“I’m more than happy,” Steve told him without hesitation, then fell still for a long moment. “I don’t think I’ve…” He trailed off, searching Tony’s eyes for something. “I never really got what I wanted. And that was fine. There were always larger things at play, but…”

“Never getting what you want is bound to leave you lonely,” Tony finished, brushing a soft kiss across Steve’s forehead. “I know the feeling.”

Steve smiled, and Tony’s world lit up as if on command. “Not anymore.”

“No,” Tony agreed softly. “Not anymore.”

Steve’s expression grew tender and poignant. And it was worth it. Everything was so worth it.

“Alright,” Tony said. “Get out. Go see your team. Just maybe scrub the spunk from your chest first.”

Steve snorted, looking down at himself. He didn’t look bothered at all. “I’ll grab a quick shower, and you might as well join me. They are your team as well. Don’t think I’ll face their glee all on my own.”

Tony huffed. “Was worth a try.”

Steve grinned and kissed him, whispering with a heartfelt tone. “It was worth far more than a try,” before bounding out of the bed.

Tony smiled to himself and made to follow. How long they spent in the shower, he did not know, and neither did he care. He was here with the man he loved, and Steve was happy. He was _happy_.

And for that, so was he. Tony Stark was happy. The concept slowly grasped him, cornered him, made him realize exactly what he had. After all the loneliness, all the doubt following the destructions of his suits, watching Steve’s happiness ensued his own. Today was only the first step of many.

And they had a lifetime to explore.

Together.


	4. phase four = {‘close’}

****description**  = {‘after project tasks are completed and the client has approved the outcome, an evaluation is necessary to highlight project success and/or learn from project history.’}**

 

 

Meanwhile, a certain A.I. accessed the Stark Industries’ private servers, opening one of the Work In Progress folders named ‘Project Flag Bearer’ and moved it right into the ‘Completed’ section.

He also took the liberty to give it a ten out of ten rating for ‘roaring success’.


End file.
